


The After Effects of Amortentia

by tinkertortillion



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Boggarts, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Hobbit Culture, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcruxes, Idiots in Love, Jealous Thorin, M/M, Middle Earth, Protective Thorin, Room of Requirement, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Scarred Thorin, Secret Relationship, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkertortillion/pseuds/tinkertortillion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the train ride to Hogwarts, Bilbo Baggins starts chatting with this quiet older dwarf who says little but is absolutely charming. Unfortunately for him, he later finds out this dwarf is not anyone but his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Bilbo might just lose his mind trying not to do something...indecorous.</p><p>Where Hogwarts is in Middle Earth and the results of having dwarfs, humans, elves, and hobbits on the same roof is still pretty disastrous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of simplicity, I changed everyone's age a little. Hobbit aging is the same as human aging. Dwarf aging is the same. Everyone is significantly younger. Enjoy my dearies! Hope you like it.

It was rumored that the position as professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts was jinxed. For six years, After Bilbo Baggins seeing countless teachers sitting on the hall, proudly and expectant, only to end up leaving at the end of the year for the most marvelous of reasons, he was starting to believe the rumors himself.

The sweets that Bilbo had eaten in the train had not satisfied him in the slightest, so when the first years had been led by Beorn, the Herbology professor, to the entrance, he might have accidentally shoved one or two in his haste to get to the carriage faster.

“Oi! Bilbo, watch it!” Beorn growled from behind him, but Bilbo could not help to ignore him despite the guilty feeling in his stomach at the thought of those terrified first years; he had spotted Paladin and Hamfast already occupying a carriage, and it was already moving. Heaving and trying to not stumble upon students without success, he reached the two just in time to jump on before they had reached the bridge.

“You could have waited for me!” Bilbo panted, giving them both a crossed look, checking if he had left any of his suitcases in his hastiness; he had.

“And what? Wait for dinner longer?” Hamfast shook his head, as if the thought was simply scandalous.

“Where were you in the train? We looked everywhere for you!” Paladin barked.

“Apparently you did not because I was looking all over for you two but then the train started moving—oh no, I left my maps on that bag!” Bilbo cried in despair. “How will I ever replace them?

“Oh shut up, Bilbo, I warned you not to bring them in the first place. So where were you?”

“I had to share a cart with a stranger, if you must know.” Bilbo was only half-listening, looking behind his shoulder in hope of catching a glance of the lost luggage in the darkness and bodies of students behind the moving carriage.

“And it did not occur in your little head to look for us? We had to share a carriage with Lobelia.”

Bilbo flinched at the name. That witch was terrifying. “It did not occur to me, all right? I was distracted.”

“Distracted how?”

“With the stranger I shared a carriage with.” Bilbo said this casually, yet he avoided Hamfast and Paladin’s eyes for fear his eyes would betray him. “We chatted so much we almost failed to notice the train stopped.”

“What was his name?”

“No idea.” Bilbo tried to not sound too resentful about this. “A dwarf fella, probably a seventh year.”

“You? Talking to a _dwarf_?”

“You are a very queer hobbit, Bilbo; not only do you talk to elves but with dwarfs as well? Barking mad.”

“What, am I forbidden from doing such a thing?” Bilbo’s voice turned defensive, forgetting his prior plan. He looked up to glare at the two. “Bugger that, Hamfast. Thought you were better than that. The bloke was very interesting! He was very silent at first so I had to do most of the talking but then he told me of his family. Melancholic conversation in the end though; we ended up talking of his lost home. Offered him my Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans bag to make him feel better. Fat a lot of good it did! He got bogey-flavored—what?”

Paladin and Hamfast were staring at him. Bilbo never became so aggressive, much less of a stranger. Hobbits tend to be suspicious and distant to strangers, even more if they were dwarfs. Now he was babbling about a strange dwarf like a teenage girl does of the head of the Quidditch captain. Not to mention Bilbo had offered him his food. Voluntarily.

“Er, nothing Bilbo”, Hamfast said slowly.

“What do you mean nothing? Bilbo is arse over elbow for that dwarf!” Paladin grinned.

“What?” Bilbo squeaked, his pointy ears turning red. “I-I do not like him. I just met him!”

“Did you mention to him how you won the Shire’s Annual Beer Drinking Contest first place when the conversation was not related to the subject at all?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You did that when you were trying to chat up the Golden Finch waiter!”

“Oh, I remember that!” Paladin said excitedly. “He was so drunk he almost puked on the poor dear.”

“That is ridiculous! I did not—“

“Did you or did you not mention it?” Hamfast cut him off. Bilbo did not answer, but gave them both a furious look, his cheeks burning red.

“We’re here,” Bilbo finally spoke.

The carriage had stopped so quietly Bilbo would not have immediately noticed if he had not been looking for a distraction. Dropping it, Paladin and Hamfast followed Bilbo out.

The advantage of being a hobbit is how easy it is to move through crowds. In no time the three had passed all the humans and elves and dwarfs, reached the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, and waited anxiously for the feast to start.

The sorting happened rather quickly. One by one, the first years were ushered to sit, the Sorting Hat placed under their trembling heads in order to be put into one of the four houses. Bilbo did not even pay attention, his mind racing on what Paladin and Hamfast had said on the carriage.

He most certainly did not like the dwarf. How could he like him? He was not a hobbit! Sure, there was something mysterious about him, something thrilling about his rigid posture, his stocky appearance, his soft, blue irises…

“I was not flirting with him,” Bilbo finally said out loud. Paladin and Hamfast, who had been engaged in a conversation about the recent retirement of the Hogwarts Gamekeeper, looked at him in shock.

“Then why are you still thinking about him?” Paladin casually said, smirking.

Bilbo opened his mouth furiously, but his voice was drowned in the wild cheers and howls from the Gryffindor table. The cheering was so loud that Bilbo jerked his head to see what was all the commotion about.

Apparently a dwarf named Ori had been sorted to Gryffindor, and every dwarf soul was banging the table in happiness. Two dwarfs were particularly noticeably roaring in excitement. Bilbo knew their names to be Fili and Kili, the infamous brothers on mischief despite them being only on third and fourth year. Even the other tables gave their own slightly more animated applause.

The headmaster’s speech was long and drowsy this year, plus they already knew all the rules by heart. Only half-heartedly did he hear Gandalf’s introduction of the new Gamekeeper, Bard Bowman.

“So have you spotted the dwarf you fancied already?” Hamfast asked.

“No” Bilbo replied, too entranced in his thoughts to remember he was supposed to deny his feelings for the stranger. He had searched every corner of the four tables and he had not seen a hint of the bloke. Bilbo started to wonder if perhaps he had imagined him, but the thought of imagining a conversation with a stranger for the whole train ride sounded more far-fetched.

_Perhaps he is avoiding you_. The thought of making someone try so strongly to avoid him made Bilbo’s stomach turn. Perhaps he should not have mentioned the Shire’s Annual Beer Drinking Contest after all. He should just have stuck to bragging on his gardening skills.

“Say, that man sitting next to the new Gamekeeper. Is he a professor?”

“Looks awfully young to be a professor, even with the beard. I wonder who he is. What d’ya think Bilbo?” Bilbo reluctantly turned to see the teacher’s table. His eyes widened.

“Oh my—“

“And may I present to you, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor: _Thorin Oakenshield_.”

Sitting between the Gamekeeper and Professor Galadriel, there was the strange dwarf Bilbo had been talking to. He stood up briefly; his piercing blue eyes looked respectfully at the students, raising a hand half-heartedly in recognition.

Hamfast was right: He did seem too young to be a professor. Despite the tired wrinkles under his eyes and long wavy hair falling over his shoulders, he appeared no older than a seventh year, perhaps slightly older. Oh no. This could not be...

Bilbo gasped, clutching the tablecloth under next to his plates instinctively, needing to hold on something.

“Bilbo,” he heard Paladin’s concerned voice next to him. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s him”, Bilbo breathed, only loud enough for Paladin and Hamfast to hear.

“Wait, what?”

“That’s him?” Hamfast echoed. “You and…and the new professor?”

“Oh Bilbo, I am afraid to tell you that he is out of your league.”

“This is not funny,” Bilbo squeaked. “What am I to do now? I have that class tomorrow and I just can’t imagine facing him…”

And suddenly it hit him, how much that ride had affected him, how much attachment he had grown for that dwarf in such few hours Bilbo had not noticed it. How could this have happened?

Paladin and Hamfast looked at Bilbo in alarm. His voice had turned alarmingly high-pitched. He was trembling with panic. All of Paladin’s and Hamfast humour had immediately vanished as they saw the seriousness in the situation.

“Relax Bilbo, it’s not like he knows you fancy him. You did not ask him out or anything, right?”

“No, no, no of course not”, Bilbo muttered. He ran his hands through his golden curls in exasperation. The feast started, but suddenly Bilbo was not all that hungry. “Okay perhaps I—”

“Oh for the Shire’s sake Bilbo, please tell me you didn’t!” Hamfast whined through eating a turkey leg. He just could not believe that Bilbo, the logical hobbit who barely spoke, much less flirted with anyone, could have done such foolishness in one train ride.

“I just offered to show him Hogsmeade, that’s all,” Bilbo reassured, more to himself. “It was just a friendly gesture—“

“Enough, Bilbo. What is done is done.” Paladin firmly said. “Now eat. It is not healthy for a hobbit to skip a meal.”

But Bilbo barely touched the food. By the end of the feast, Bilbo had only drunk an exaggerated amount of pumpkin juice and no more. When Paladin and Hamfast sighed in satisfaction, the three stood up and walked out of the Great Hall together.

“Well, it has only been a couple of hours and Bilbo wants to shag the new professor,” Paladin yawned, stretching his arms. “This will be an interesting year indeed.”

Bilbo wondered if it was too late to drop out of his Defense Against the Dark Arts class.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin can be oblivious sometimes.

  
Thorin Oakenshield had to admit to himself that before yesterday, he had never even heard of a hobbit.

Perhaps he had seen them before in the unusual times he found himself having business on Diagon Alley, but never did he stop and wonder of their nature.

To be fair, hobbits are rarely seen by wizards anyhow, them rarely given the gift of magic. If they were, even less were they willing to leave their beloved home of Hobbiton. In the end, he was as oblivious to hobbits as he was with gardening.

But no matter; Bilbo Baggins fixed that right away in a train ride.

The mysterious creature had appeared commonly, his entrance not hinting the impact he’d have on Thorin’s life. “Do you mind?” he had spoken politely, motioning to sit next to him. Thorin had hoped that his stiff posture and unwelcoming glare would be enough for him to leave, but the creature had just looked at him expectantly. Grumbling, Thorin nodded. “Of course.”

Beaming, the stranger sat on the other side of the carrier, placing his luggage carelessly aside, except for a gray bag. Thorin took that time to look more closely at this curious student. Too short to be a human, to odd to be a dwarf. Curious indeed.

“Thank you. Do you know how hard it is to go unnoticed through a train station full of humans and elves when you are a hobbit? Bloody crowds unashamedly staring at me.” He gave a grim laugh. “I was tempted to cast a Confundus charm on some and just pass.”

Thorin gave a dry chuckle that surprised him. He turned to watch the hills go by.

He could not help but feel the creature’s eyes on him, looking at him unabashedly. “Yes?” finally Thorin growled when he had enough, turning to look at the hobbit. Thorin was not used to being stared at. He caught the student’s curious expression before it shifted to reddening slightly.

“Nothing, it is just…” his voice trailed off as the hobbit tilted his head in thought as he took another glance at Thorin, something Thorin did not appreciate. He as a teacher should be given respect. “Are you new here? I have never seen you before.”

“I am,” Thorin replies slowly. The thought that perhaps this fair student did not know who he was started to dawn upon him.

“Hope you like it here. It was a sight to sink in for me the first time, but to be fair I was eleven and had never left the Shire. Gandalf personally came for me, can you believe it? I’m Bilbo, by the way, Bilbo Baggins.” He merrily extended his hand.

Hesitating, Thorin took Bilbo’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” He bit the words _Thorin Oakenshield at your service_ back, not exactly knowing why.

***

The sun was barely peeking up when Bilbo had thrown his covers aside and snatched his bag. He had half-hoped his schedule had changed overnight, not needing to go to Dark Arts after all; it remained the same.

Bilbo groaned, collapsing on his bed and covering his eyes with his arm.

A part of him still wanted to convince himself it was a lie, that he really felt nothing for the dwarf he had only met for a day. Such silly thing, to fall for someone so quickly. Why would he? He probably did not.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was his last class, so he did not have to worry about this matter in a while anyways. During breakfast with Paladin and Hamfast, with a sigh he began to wonder if Thorin felt the same way, the event being an expected meeting to both. The answer was obvious, of course.

“Don’t worry Bilbo,” Paladin had tried to console him. “It will be fine. Besides, I’ll be there with you to help.”

Bilbo smiled weakly. That was true; he thankfully had that class with Paladin. It might not be that bad.

Herbology was his first class, and it helped on taking his mind off things. Professor Beorn was not very good at teaching, with that short temper of his, but that did not stop him on showing his unbelievable garden, so grand it was that the greenhouse could not tame it, and expanded outside. There were so many extravagant fauna, flowers taller than Bilbo and twisting trees of all sizes.

Bilbo and Hamfast took the liberty to choose their seats while they waited for class to start. “Did you hear what happened yesterday?” Hamfast whispered excitedly.

“What?” Bilbo had asked, not fully listening as he eyed warily a potted weed next to him that had moved.

“Professor Thranduil had a row with the new Gamekeeper.”

_“What?”_

“Right in front of a bunch of second years too. Their shouts scared the living hell out of a little elf girl.”

“How? Why?” Bilbo was not exactly acquaintances with Professor Thranduil, but he never thought him having a row with another teacher in public.

“Something about handling the Forbidden Forest. But let’s face it Bilbo, we know what the row was really about. Professor Thranduil was waiting for Radagast to retire so he could become the new Gamekeeper. He is furious." Hamfast drew closer and muttered only loud enough for Bilbo to hear. “Some swear they saw Thranduil taking out his wand.”

“Oh really? Who swears? The frightened second years?”

Hamfast scowled. “Otho told me.”

“My apologies. The second years would have been a more credible source.”

Next came Potions class, where, as it was expected, Professor Thranduil was in no good mood. He gave the usual intimidating beginning-of-class speech, then barked at them to make an unbelievably complicated potion. He disappeared to the back room with a swish of his white cloak, being there for the rest of the class except when he felt like shouting at a student.

Weirdly enough, Bilbo felt pity for the professor.

***

Hobbits were curious things. During the train ride, Thorin learned a thing or two from Bilbo from far more than his words.

They were creatures of rituals and patterns, calm and peaceful with no desire for the unusual. They also did not leave their home often. Bilbo talked of his home in the Shire with such fondness, of his soft couch and warm bed. It had not been a day and he missed it already. Thorin could relate with him on that feeling, missing his home.

Politeness came as naturally to them as breathing. Bilbo had mentioned of his horrible hunger, yet he offered Thorin some treats. Hobbits, it seemed, were completely obsessed with gardening. For hours the halfling conversed on the proper way to keep your petunias hydrated and how they differed from lilies. Thorin did not mind the hobbit talking; it gave him a reason to look at Bilbo without hiding it.

What annoyed him is how the gardening conversation became interesting.

***

Bilbo breathed deeply through his nose, paralyzed in front of the classroom door. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door.

 _Just get in,_ he demanded in his mind impatiently, but he stood where he was.

He was not quite sure why did he choose to take Defense Against the Dark Arts anyways. Bilbo was anything but good at duels. He was canny in transforming objects and was okay when it came to brewing potions, yet he was useless when it came to hexes and jinxes.

Taking a deep breath, he consoled himself on how it was not that bad. He only flirted with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and took his class. No, wait, it is bad.

It was so unlike Bilbo to chat up anyone (when sober). What was he thinking?

The door opened, revealing Paladin poking his head out. “Bilbo?”

“Yes?” Bilbo croaked.

“Class is about to start. How much longer do you think you’ll sop and regret your life decisions?”

Bilbo gulped, rearranging his Gryffindor tie. “I’m done, I think.”

Paladin nodded, going in again. Bilbo took a shaky sigh, following him inside, blinking at the dark lighting inside.

Where last year there had been posters on defense techniques they now laid bare, with the exception of Cithril runes here and there. The torches blazed dimly, giving the place an eerie look. There was no sign of Thorin. All students whispered curiously on the different ambiance from last year.

Bilbo sat quietly next to Paladin on the very last row; Hamfast chose not to take this class this year. He took a look around, seeing who he would share the class with. He groaned in despair when he saw the wretched figure of Lobelia sitting in the second row, currently chatting with some mousy haired human.

“Little dramatic, this professor,” Paladin whispered, still looking around at the dim room.

All the torches died out, leaving them all in total darkness, yet they turned on brightly before anyone started panicking. Thorin stood in front of the classroom, head high and hands behind his back.

“Yep,” Bilbo whispered back. The two muffled their snickers.

“Welcome," Thorin’s voice rumbled, resonating all around the classroom. “To the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class.” His light blue eyes started searching the room, looking at every student intimately. “My name is Thorin Oakenshield and I am your professor for the year. You will all call me Professor Oakenshield.”

That is when his eyes fell on Bilbo’s. He looked at him curiously and unashamedly, like Bilbo had done to him on that train ride to Hogwarts. This time, however, Bilbo gave up and looked away, his ears burning.

“In this class you are expected already to have the capability to understand the basics of the Dark Arts and have independent strategies on how to react if ever encountered with it. Yet the headmaster has made me understand that due to the ongoing pattern of incompetent professors Hogwarts has recently received, you all have learned nothing”. His eyes flashed. “That will be fixed.”

After that Thorin went on to explain the curriculum of the class. He did not glance once at Bilbo, and that annoyed him too deeply than it should have.

Not a day had passed and Bilbo already missed the Shire more than ever. There had never been none of this crush business there!

Class ended and everyone started packing, chatting noisily as they went out. Bilbo bluntly threw his notes on his bag and tried to stomp away as fast as possible along Paladin, trying to ignore the knot he felt in his throat and the sickening feeling in his stomach.

He remembered the conversation on the train, the chatting and laughing and friendly mocking. He remembered the smirk on Thorin’s face that refused to leave his face on Bilbo’s talking. He remembered the bright glint on his eyes, so bright despite looking weary with seeing too many tragedies.

 _It was all in my head after all_ , Bilbo miserably thought, holding his chin high even when he felt so horribly glum.

“Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo froze on the spot. It could not have been. He glanced at Paladin. He was as stunned as Bilbo was.

“Come here.” Oh. Bilbo turned around, trying to shuffle to where Thorin was sitting without showing his nervousness. Paladin took the liberty to leave.

“Y-yes?” Bilbo said in an unconvincingly neutral tone.

Thorin grinned at him, a comfortable smile that was nothing of the professor Bilbo had just seen minutes ago. He handed Bilbo a weather-beaten gray bag. “I believe these books and maps to be yours.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries to get over Professor Oakenshield with mixed results. Well, not really.

“You are brooding again.”

“No I am not.”

“Yes you are Bilbo. Again.”

“Getting quite annoying really,” Paladin casually said from behind his _The Best Keepers of the 21st Century_ book.

A week and three days. It has been a week and three days since the first day of school, and Bilbo still felt aflame every time he thought of Thorin. It was not as if in that train ride they had vowed to share a friendship, much less the significant emotions Bilbo had, yet he felt betrayed in Thorin’s attitude of carelessness. In a daring attempt last Thursday, Bilbo asked Thorin how his train ride had been, prompting to recognize he had at least known him before that first day. Thorin had just raised his eyebrows and answered his question. Apparently every time he thought of this he brooded; and according to Hamfast and Paladin, Bilbo brooded often.

“Bilbo,” Hamfast said with a knowing smile. “I know this is hard. I know this is the first crush you’ve had that did not require you having drunk a barrel of ale. But I suggest you let it go, because this is not a person you can avoid except when unexpectedly encountering in a hallway or something. This is your teacher, mate.”

Bilbo frowned at Hamfast, who had already gone back to writing his letter.

Of course he was right, but did he not think he had not tried? Bilbo had tried everything, from avoiding asking for Thorin’s help despite being complete lost half the time in his class to positively fleeing from there when the bell rang.

Yet all he had accomplished with that is gazing at him half of the time from the distance and checking all the ancient Khuzdul books in the library in order to find out what the Cithril runes in the walls meant.

“He’s right Bilbo” came Paladin’s voice again behind his book.

“I know he is,” Bilbo said impatiently, the note of pure misery clear on his voice. “But I can’t help it.”

At this Hamfast looked at him in surprise. Even Paladin slightly lowered his book to gaze at Bilbo in wonder.

“Well, look at that,” Hamfast said slowly. “Little Bilbo is really in love.”

“I told you those hormones would kick up.”

“Just forget it,” Bilbo spat, already standing up, but Paladin put his book down and grabbed his elbow, now looking concerned.

“Oh sit now, don’t be so sour.” Paladin sat straight, clearing his throat. “Bilbo, it’s not going to be an immediate process. We do not expect you to take a hold of yourself by tomorrow. But if you do nothing, this will only grow. And this will not only harm you…emotionally, but I assure you that you will flunk the class in a month.”

“Well then what do I do,” Bilbo pleaded.

Paladin grinned. “For one, stop spending your free time learning Khuzdul in the library.”

***

And so Bilbo began. He returned all of his Khuzdul books and instead focused on his classes. In Dark Arts class, he’d avoid the teacher’s sight at all times, asking Paladin only for help when stuck and keeping his eyes on his notes.

It became clear quite quickly how Thori— _Professor Oakenshield_ , was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts had ever had. In just a week, they had already covered extraordinary creatures and were demonstrated to defend against them.

Just yesterday, Thorin had brought a live kappa to the class, a scaly, unpleasant creature, fishing it himself from the lake. The experience might have been more pleasant if the creature had not bitten Bilbo’s finger.

Everything was going fine for almost a week. Bilbo had learned to distract himself. Paladin helped in that he brought him to his Quidditch training; the Gryffindor tryouts were in two days and Paladin yearned to get in as Keeper that year. Bilbo and Hamfast would visit Beorn often, helping him in his gardens and attentively hearing his rough descriptions on exotic plants along his out-of-nowhere narratives on his past experiences. Bilbo and Hamfast did not mind. It only bothered Bilbo that Beorn had taken the liberty to nickname him a “little bunny”.

Then bloody Professor Oakenshield had to bring that lesson up and cross the fine line Bilbo had so delicately built.

***

The day had been on Quidditch tryouts, so Paladin had been too anxious to attend class. Bilbo should have taken this as a sign and have skipped it too, but Bilbo had never ditched a class in his life and he did not feel compelled to start now. So he walked to class alone, calculating on coming just in time and not a minute before.

Swinging the door open, he knew in a second this was not a good day to come alone. All the desks had been rearranged to stand next to the walls, leaving a great space in the middle. Everyone had taken the liberty to sit on the floor, not really minding the change. Professor Oakenshield was waiting patiently in the front for the class to start.

“Today we’ll practice dueling,” he said clearly in his rough voice. Everyone fell silent. “This for some may come as a review from second year. Yet I feel that it has not been heavily emphasized its importance to you by former teachers.” He stopped, glaring at the class sternly. “There shall be no fatal or mortal hexes or curses used. If you waver on whether to use a spell or not, I suggest you do not use it. Everyone pair up. I will critique every one individually as I pass by.”

It was as if everything Bilbo had dreaded lately had compromised on happening at the same day: He was horrible at duels, Paladin was not there to help him and this was the only class in which he knew no one else (except for Lobelia, which was more unfortunate than anything really). Bilbo could feel the blood leaving his face, feeling sick.

He will get Paladin for this.

A human girl he had History of Magic with once he paired up with, of dark skin and curly hair. Bilbo could not remember her name.

Before he could decide on what hex to use his partner would already have made Bilbo’s wand fly off his hand. He at once became so irritated that he cursed loudly. Everyone glared at him in shock. Thorin’s attention was caught too.

Thorin approached Bilbo slowly, who was too busy babbling an incoherent apology to the human girl. He only noticed him when Thorin said from behind him, “Proceed, Mister Baggins” in an impatient but amused voice. Bilbo jumped so high that Beorn’s nickname for him seemed appropriate now.

As it was predicted, Bilbo’s wand shot out of his hand in a millisecond. Resigned to the result, he was more worried of the dwarf observing them behind his back.

“Good work, Miss Portman.” The girl grinned in appreciation to Professor Oakenshield. “Now, Mister Baggins…”

Thorin swooped so quickly next to him that Bilbo at first was unable to get what just happened. Thorin was pressed behind him, slouching so he could cover his hand with Bilbo’s. “You are moving your wand too sharply. Swish it. Like this.” He led Bilbo’s hand to move the wand smoothly, forming half a circle in the air.

Bilbo caught his breath, paralyzed. The chatter around the room had suddenly stopped drumming in Bilbo’s ears. All he could do was smell the now overwhelming smell of parchment and humid trees. It was such a comforting feeling that Bilbo unconsciously leaned in backwards a little more. Thankfully, Thorin seemed to not have noticed.

“It would also help if you decided before the duel on what hex to use also,” came Thorin with the same amused, yet quieter voice. “Understood, Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Thorin’s face from the corner of his eye. Yet Thorin was so tall he only saw his coat. He realized he was supposed to respond. “Yes,” Bilbo responded, in a tone that sounded too hoarse to be his.

And the work Bilbo had been doing the last week puffed in an instant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow evening but I thought I'd celebrate my birthday Hobbit-style and give this present to you all wonderful dearies a little early <3

Bilbo rushed out of the classroom even faster than usual, clinging to his bag. He was more furious than anything, even if he did not know with what. Was he mad at Paladin for not being there for him? Or that Thorin was torturing him? But both had not intended it so. Then was he mad at himself? It did not help that as he passed by Lobelia and some friends of hers were shamelessly talking of Thorin.

“He is so attractive.”

“But did you see him in the lake the other day?”

“I’d like him to teach me a thing or two outside of class.”

Something inside Bilbo did not even know he possessed boiled up so quickly that he felt himself on fire. No one should ever talk like that of Thorin. His Thorin. Bilbo shook his head, walking blindly. No, not his Thorin at all. It was all in his mind only.

Neither Paladin nor Hamfast were in the Gryffindor tower, and Bilbo was in no mood to search for them right now. He took the best seat by the fireplace, sprawling himself on the couch meant for three and started his Potions essay.

It took three hours for Bilbo to remember that today was Gryffindor tryouts after all. He snapped his book shut and shoved his essay ruthlessly inside his bag; Seeing Paladin tryout would distract him more than the detesting essay Professor Thranduil had assigned. And he really needed the distraction.

Every year, Bilbo would get homesick at one time or another—it just did not occur this early on the school year.

He missed the smell of his garden, the sun on his back as he took care of his plants, the comfort of his dear hobbit hole. He missed the complete solitude, the food he would cook that was simply made his mouth water to think about. Or maybe he just missed not knowing of Thorin’s existence, like the summer before.

His thoughts of home faded away as he found himself passing a stricken Hamfast on a corridor. His eyes were wide, breathless.

“Hamfast”, Bilbo said, alarmed. “What happened?”

“Bilbo…” Hamfast wheezed. “Paladin…Bofur…a fight.”

“Wait, what?” It took a second for Hamfast’s words to sink in.”Paladin and Bofur are _fighting?”_

Bofur was Bilbo’s friend, a dwarf of the same year as he and Paladin. Bilbo never saw Bofur as violent, much less Paladin. Then again, he knew that both were trying out for Keeper, and things in Quidditch could get ugly.

“Where?” Bilbo said clearly, eyebrows furrowed.

Hamfast led Bilbo towards the Quidditch field, Bilbo wondering all the way as he sprinted what on earth could have led such pacifist creatures to turn like this.

There was a crowd visible from the distance, shouting incoherently at something they were surrounding. Moving through the thick crowd hastily, Bilbo found himself in the middle of Bofur and Paladin, who both held their wands in their hands threateningly.

“ENOUGH!” Bilbo roared, raising his hands to push them away from each other, stunning the two at his appearance. “This has been enough, both of you now.”

The two were in dirty clothes, scratches on elbows. Their chests were heaving, standing their ground firmly in the ruckus. Even Paladin looked intimidating next to Bofur when he was shorter than both Bilbo and Bofur, by far. The two barely glanced at Bilbo’s cry, Paladin barely flinching.

“Move _away_ , Bilbo,” both Bofur and Paladin snapped.

Bilbo did not move, his hands remaining to block them. “I will not. At least until someone explains to me what happened.” Bilbo ignored the crowd, who were staring at him in annoyance. Clearly they were waiting for a fight, and Bilbo was ruining it.

"This rat insulted me.”

“Only after you took the liberty to insult me.”

“Why don’t you go back to the hole you came from, you _hobbit_.” The last word was said in such an ugly manner that even Bilbo felt offended. He turned to glare up at Bofur directly, not shying away from his intimidating stare.

“ _Enough_ ,” Bilbo repeated, though more weakly this time. “Look at you. _Shame_ on both of you. Where is Captain Legolas? He would never let this happen.”

“He left five minutes ago,” peeped a little human boy from the crowd. That reminded Bilbo…

“All of you, mind your own business” snapped Bilbo, shooing the crowd away. “Huddle off, now!”

A grumbling passed across the crowd before they dispersed. Bilbo turned around towards Paladin and Bofur, looking dangerously cross.

“Look both of you, _I do not care what happened,_ ” Bilbo said in such a harsh voice that Hamfast, who was standing behind him, took a step back. “You two know better. And one of you might become the Gryffindor Keeper, so do act like it!”

“Bofur became Keeper,” Paladin said bluntly.

Bilbo opened his mouth furiously before he heard Paladin’s words. “Oh.” Without another word he took Paladin by the wrist and led him inside, Hamfast following them two right behind him. Bilbo did not free Paladin until they were in a lonely corridor.

Paladin was agitated. “Oi! What—“

“Shut it, Took! What happened?”

“That worthless Bofur, that’s what happened!” Paladin’s nostrils flared.

“What did he do?”

“He cheated and I know it.”

“And what makes you say that?

“I just know it.”

“That’s it? That’s what the fight was about? Intuition? Well I am glad you did not get in the team because you would not have supported the Slytherin matches. Would have called them off every time.”

“Oh that is funny. HILARIOUS, I would say.” There was nothing amused in Paladin’s face. Bilbo turned to Hamfast, but he only shrugged. “They were already fighting when I showed up.”

“All right,” Bilbo sighed. “Fine. Listen.” He turned to Paladin again. “Just drop it. You did not get in because he was better, _not_ because he cheated. Maybe next year you’ll get it. Understood?” He said it like that; short, heartless and simple. He waited for Paladin for respond, but he did not. Instead he pushed past Bilbo and swept away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bilbo mumbled, watching Paladin’s figure strut to the Gryffindor tower.

***

“Bilbo? Bilbo. Bilbo!”

Bilbo groaned, covering his face with his pillow only for it to be snatched away and be given a sharp punch on his should.

Bilbo cried in pain. “What the—?”

“Shh,” Fili hissed. “You’ll wake him up.” He pointed to the top bunk, where Hamfast promptly snored.

It was Fili and Kili, the brothers Bilbo knew to be every teacher’s nightmare, the masters of mischief. They wore their pajamas and stricken expressions.

“What are you two doing?” sharply Bilbo whispered. “This is not your dormitory and I do not appreciate—“

“ _Shhhh_ ” Fili repeated lividly. “Do you know where Paladin is?” Kili glared vigorously.

Bilbo was about to say to them to not be ridiculous, that Paladin was sleeping on the bed right next to them, but as he turned to the bed, it was empty.

He gaped, lost for words.

Fili and Kili both whispered “Damn” and hurried off the dormitory without any other word of explanation. Bilbo immediately took his robe and ran after them.

He found them climbing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady (who was not pleased at being woken up), muttering in worried whispers. He caught up to them in the corridor, where there was no one in sight, so he took the liberty to yell, “What is going on?”

”SHHHH,” both Fili and Kili said furiously. “What are you doing here, hobbit?” Kili sourly said, looking around to see if there was indeed no one around.

“What am _I_ doing? Well I was perfectly sleeping before you two woke me! And where in the world is Paladin?”

Fili and Kili exchanged significant looks. Fili was the one who spoke. “Bofur’s gone too.”

Oh no.

“We do not know when he left, but it must have been not so long ago.”

“We have an idea of where they are.”

“Well, then what are we doing here. Let’s hurry!” Bilbo said loudly. The brothers led Bilbo downstairs.

What Bilbo still did not understand was what all of this chaos was about. Paladin was not the fighting type and he never accepted defeat so sourly, even if it was the Keeper position. He voiced this out this to the dwarfs.

Fili and Kili stopped in their tracks, stunning Bilbo in their suddenness. They looked at each other guiltily, balancing in the balls of their feet.

“What?” Bilbo said.

They stayed silent a second before Kili quietly said. “The tryouts might not have been fully just.”

Bilbo did not understand. “How do you mean?”

“Er, Fili and I might have…interfered.”

“You…”

“You should have seen Bofur, Bilbo. He so dearly wanted to get in…”

“Oh for the _Shire’s_ sake, you two did not—“s

“We didn’t know Bofur and Paladin would go all ballistics about it!”

“Well guess what, he did,” Bilbo said in what almost sounded like a hiss, teeth bared. “And now were are looking for them like _madmen_ all around the school for them past curfew and are risking getting caught!” He had not even noticed his voice had turned louder until that last word echoed all around the corridors, turning to watch in horror all around him instantly.

Fili’s eyes widened and Kili’s thin lips were pressed into a tight line. Along the far, so faint that it might have been lost if they had kept talking, there was the sound of hurried footsteps.

Bilbo had not even noticed that the two dwarf brothers had fled, leaving him alone in the unsettling darkness.

“Right,” he breathed, trying to sustain his panic. “Okay.”

To return to the tower was his first reaction, but Paladin’s face came into his mind, and with a pang of guilt knew that he wouldn’t have given in and would have looked for Bilbo in his place. Bilbo sighed in frustration and, closing and opening his fists anxiously, turned around and wandered around the corridors once more, hoping silently that the caretaker would not hear him.

***

Thorin woke with a start.

The night was one of biting cold, making him turn restless as he was a light sleeper already, but that was not what woke him up. Outside his room, restless voices could be heard passing by.

“—not an appropriate punishment for the five—“

“—should not be so hard on them—“

“—then what should we do—?”

“ _Lumos,”_ Thorin whispered, throwing his coat on and slipping on his boots. He opened the door to see the figures of Headmaster Gandalf, Professor Thranduil, Professor Galadriel, and the Gamekeeper Bard walking away. Thranduil and Bard were seemingly arguing quietly.

He cleared his throat. The four turned around.

“Ah, Professor Oakenshield”, Gandalf smiled. Thranduil did not seem so happy. “Cared to join us, I see.”

“What is the problem?” said Thorin.

“We found these five wandering around the school after curfew,” Professor Thranduil said curtly. “But if I may wonder, I do not see why the Gamekeeper cares to interfere or even be here.” He glared at Bard.

“The headmaster thought it would be appropriate to summon me in order to ask for my assistance” Bard said smoothly.

“Your assistance is not required.”

“And your opinion was not asked for, Professor Thranduil.” Gandalf said not rudely. Thranduil blushed noticeably even through the dim lighting of the torches and bowed his head.

“What students are we talking about?” Thorin asked.

“Mister Bofur, Fili, Kili, Took and Baggins.”

Something inside Thorin twitched, but his face remained passive.

“What is to be their punishments?”

“Their crime was small, so I suggest something reasonable” Professor Galadriel said.

“Agreed,” Bard said roughly.

“A small crime? Who knows what the the five were up to! I do not agree.”

“Then what do you suggest Professor Thranduil?” Gandalf toned.

Professor Thranduil hesitated, then said, “A week of detention with me.”

“Absolutely not”, said Professor Galadriel crossly, “You would have them as slaves cleaning your cauldrons all day.”

“What if instead of a week, I just bring them to the Forbidden Forest for a walk?”

Everyone stared at Bard.

Bard explained himself. “It would only be one detention, and it would be enough to encourage them not to try shenanigans again. Of course, I would take care of them. A simple shake is all I would give them to persuade them, if you will.”

Thranduil looked at him as if he was insane, but Professor Gandalf said, “Very well, Professor Bard.”

“You cannot be serious headmaster—“

“I am,” Gandalf said shortly. “But just to keep the security of the students intact, I suggest you take only four of them. Five would be too much to have an eye on. One of the five will be subjected to another punishment.”

Bilbo, Paladin, Bofur, Fili and Kili were all waiting anxiously on the next room where they were locked in. The teachers were deciding their fate. Fili and Kili had their ears pressed on the door.

Never in his six years in Hogwarts had Bilbo been in trouble, except when he had accidentally set the Potions class on fire in his first year. He was trembling head to toe.

Bofur looked concerned. “Bilbo, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, it was not your fault,” Paladin mumbled.

Bofur and Paladin exchanged remorseful looks. All of their personal problems had gotten their dear friend in trouble.

The two had been found on an empty classroom, yet they had not been found in any kind of fight whatsoever. Thranduil had been sulking nearby and had noticed the intruders, not wasting time in summoning the headmaster and head of Gryffindor.

Professor Thranduil opened the door, sending Fili and Kili falling back.

“Follow me,” he said sharply, hands behind his back.

The corridor where the teachers had been discussing their fate was now empty. “Where are we going?” Bofur asked.

“To the Gryffindor tower, obviously.”

“So we are not in trouble?” Kili said hopefully.

“Don’t be so dim, Mr. Kili,” Thranduil spat. “You have all been assigned a punishment. You four will be summoned on Saturday night to accompany the Gamekeeper to the Forbidden Forest.”

“The Forbidden Forest?” Paladin echoed, petrified. Even Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable.

“Indeed.”

“Wait. You said the four of us. What do you mean by that?”

“Mister Baggins has been chosen to not accompany you four to the Forbidden Forest; it was believed to have been too much for him to bear. Instead he will be taken care of by Professor Oakenshield on the same Saturday night.”

None of the faces that the four had previously done at hearing their punishment could ever compare to the expression of pure terror Bilbo wore upon hearing Thranduil’s words.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who had read this fic before, this is where the big changes begin. No real plot-changers, just certain events.  
> Enjoy my wonderful darlings <3

“And why me anyways?” Bilbo snapped at the common room. The four—Paladin, Fili, Kili, and Bofur—shushed him at the same time.

“Bilbo, please do relax,” Fili huffed, collapsing on the loon couch opposite of him and Paladin, next to the two other dwarves. “If anything, you got the better end of the stick.”

Bilbo tried to grin weakly, turning to a grimace. Paladin pursed his lips. If only those two knew how wrong they were.

When Professor Thranduil had escorted them to the tower and had left, Bilbo could barely force himself to go inside. Paladin and Fili had to help him crawl onto the sofa. The poor hobbit muttered his thanks and stared fixedly at the dying fireplace, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong with him?” Fili had muttered, but Paladin had only shaken his head. Fili and Kili, they were simply the least two people who should be aware of this, after Thorin. They had issues of their own.

And that reminded him now—“Fili, Kili.” Bilbo’s voice had taken such a sharp tone that the brothers looked at him in mild alarm. “Tell them,” he beckoned towards Paladin and Bofur.

Fili and Kili exchanged a look, but said nothing. Bofur glanced at them curiously. “Tell us what?”

As their silence grew, Bilbo repeated in a more forceful tone, “Tell them.” His quiet voice did nothing to hide the fury and exhhaustion vibrating through it. “I am taking none of these scams, yeah? Just get it over with.”

The two shamefully bowed their heads.

“Bofur,” Fili said quietly. “We’re sorry.”

“We are really, really, _really_ sorry.”

“We-we might have charmed Paladin’s broom.”

Bofur stared. “I do not understand.”

“We got you to get in, Bofur.” Kili said this with his head still bowed, hands between knees. His voice sounded muffled. “We wanted you to get to be Keeper.”

Paladin’s mouth opened in shock. Bofur was staring at Fili and Kili with glassy eyes, fists clenching so tightly it looked painful.

“I’m sorry Bofur,” Bilbo said, putting a consoling hand on his shoulder. He knew he should say more than that, that his friend needed him, but he was awfully tired and he had problems of his own to worry about. It also did not help his case that his best friend was the reason of his pain. “I really am.”

After Bofur slowly nodded, he muttered, “Come” to Paladin and left the three dwarfs alone, walking towards the dormitories in strangled silence.

“Happy now?” Bilbo grunted to Paladin, settling himself on his bed for the second time that night.

“Surprisingly, no,” Paladin quietly said back.

***

The week went so fast Bilbo had woken up to stare at the dormitory’s calendar for about a quarter of an hour, realizing it was Saturday morning already. The event still felt surreal, as if there was no detention at all and it had all been a dream. Of course this thought was quickly busted anytime Paladin would moan about the weather being anything but appropriate—with the skies pouring both hailstones and rain—and Hamfast keeping on asking the smallest of the details of the event.

“Can’t believe I missed it,” Hamfast said grouchily to his breakfast, looking disappointed.

Paladin’s hand, which held a forkful of scramble egg, froze in midair. “Did you _want_ to get in trouble?”

“Well, no,” Hamfast mumbled. “But I just hate missing this kind of stuff.”

“But why me?” Bilbo wondered aloud to particularly no one.

“Bilbo Baggins, if you repeat that question again I will personally murder you.”

“Yes but _why me?_ ” said Bilbo, dropping his fork. “Why not you? Or Fili or Kili? Or Bofur?” Bilbo’s panicked state did not move either Hamfast or Paladin. That question had been repeated at least a thousand times already.

“As I have said already,” Paladin said in a mechanical, exhausted voice. “It means nothing. It was sheer coincidence, so accept it.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Bilbo said weakly. “What if Thorin chose me because he thought I couldn’t handle the Forbidden Forest?” The thought made his voice turn bitter. Bilbo Baggins was not weak, and should never be pitied. Thorin should know that.

“Then he did you a hell of a favor, if you ask me,” Paladin said sourly. “Now if you can stop your sulking, I have some Quidditch morning training to do.”

With that Paladin left, leaving Hamfast and Bilbo to finish their second breakfast, only that Bilbo again barely touched the food.

***

“Bilbo, stop looking so pale, Thorin does not bite,” Fili said, looking appalled at the threatening clouds outside roaring when passing a window. “I am probably going to catch a cold with this weather,” he declared.

The hobbit chuckled dryly, more out of nervousness than out of humor. Fili had been kind enough to escort him to Thorin’s classroom when he saw how much Bilbo dreaded today even if he had no idea why. He, however, had some sense on not to go on asking.

“So like I was saying,” Fili continued chirping on with his story. “Kili and I had been _cornered._ The headmaster was right on our tails. Nowhere to go, only the cursed corridor in front of us, and we both knew that behind that door, there…” Fili mimicked opening an imaginary door in front of him, his eyes dramatically wide. “There Professor Thranduil was waiting for us.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and smiled. Fili must think him mad if he actually thinks Bilbo will buy that he and Kili almost outwitted three professors. Bilbo appreciated him trying to distract him though—it had partly worked.

But they were now approaching Thorin’s door and that bliss soon ended.

Bilbo gulped.

“It’s all right, Bilbo,” Fili said kindly. “I know that detention is not so common for you, but I assure you, getting Thorin to take care of it was the best thing that could have happened to you.”

Bilbo grinned unconvincingly.

“No really! I’ll take care that he’ll treat you right, eh?”

“And how do you suppose you’ll do that?” Bilbo said incredulously.

“I’m his favorite nephew,” Fili said proudly, knocking on the door.

Bilbo gaped. “ _What?”_

“Good evening.” Thorin looked down at them.

“Hullo, Uncle!”

“Fili? Are you not supposed to be with the groundkeeper?”

“I just came to accompany Bilbo here. See that you treat him well.” Bilbo looked at Fili in horror and tried not to blush, avoiding Thorin’s eye.

“Really?” Bilbo could hear Thorin’s amusement.

“Yep, the poor boy has been agitated for da—oi!” Fili cried in pain, rubbing his shin that Bilbo had kicked, “Careful now.”

“Thank you for coming Fili,” Bilbo said firmly, the dismissal being clear in his voice.

Fili scowled at him, his face crying “ _Is this what I get for helping out?”_ But he nodded once, breaking into a smile. “I should go. I’ll probably get in trouble if I do not appear soon to my detention.”

Thorin nodded. Fili spun around and left.

And that left the two of them. Alone. Bilbo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, spinning to face Professor Oakenshield, who was smirking in amusement back at him. Bilbo wrinkled his nose in annoyance at his smugness.

“Why won’t you come in, Mister Bilbo?”

Bilbo sniffed and entered the room as haughtily as he could only to lean back on that in front of him.

The classroom had only two torches lit, the majority of the light seeping from the moonlight let in by window. The Cithril runes around the room seemed as if they glowed, and there was simply a more serene feeling to the room, and Bilbo could not put his finger on what it was.

It felt very…dwarf-like. Bilbo could not help but beam at the room. It felt very much like Thorin.

“Beautiful,” Bilbo muttered in awe despite himself. He heard Thorin give a dry chuckle behind.

“Is it? It makes me feel at home.”

Bilbo turned to look at one rune, brighter than all, and he remembered reading about it somewhere on his books.

“Erebor,” Bilbo said out loud.

Thorin frowned, impressed, “Where did you learn Khuzdul.”

Bilbo waved his flattery off, saying, “I truly do not know much. Just recognized that from a Cithril runes book.”

“And what was a hobbit doing with a Cithril runes book?”

“I…” Bilbo hesitated, “was just curious, that’s all.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but did not press him further. He went to his desk and beckoned Bilbo to do the same. “We’ll be grading third-year essays. I can be sure that you are still familiar with werewolves?”

Bilbo firmly nodded, taking a seat next to him and going ahead to grade the essays, glad to have something to distract him from the fact that he was sitting next to Thorin. Thorin did the same, the room falling quiet except for the occasional scratch of a pen or the dipping of ink.

Yet by the fifteenth essay Bilbo was getting bored. The reading became blurry and monotone as the moon remained to shine by. His eyes wandered from the papers and around the room, the brick walls with the runes, the bookshelves with books of the dark arts and dwarf literature, the torches remaining to flicker by lazily, the window displaying the sky outside.

There were so many mysteries around, of stories and wars won and lost, of love and tragedy, almost humming to him inside the room.

“I have read so much of dwarfs,” Bilbo started quietly. “Of their battles and history and politics, but never have I read…” Bilbo let out a breathy sigh, “Of their stories.”

Thorin, who had been attentively grading, turned to look at the hobbit in confusion, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone has stories,” Bilbo spoke softly, still looking around him. “Of their lives, their mistakes, their family and their homes,” Bilbo turned to catch Thorin’s eye, “and their people.”

Professor Oakenshield grinned approvingly at this, nodding. “We dwarves keep these stories to ourselves. We don’t share them through ink, but through spoken words.”

“Is that so?” Bilbo said excitedly, forgetting the essays altogether and leaning closer to Thorin. “Tell me one.”

This took Thorin aback. “What?”

“Tell me something. Any story that only a dwarf would have heard.”

Thorin scowled at this. “There is no logic to that if I do.”

“Come now, I won’t tell anyone! Anything would do. A joke. A tragedy. A love story.”

“Why don’t you tell one of hobbits first,” Thorin retorted, trying to throw the hobbit off balance. Which went in vain.

“Okay,” Bilbo said brightly, standing up straighter, screwing his face in concentration, “Hmm, which one? Ah, I know.”

Thorin wondered if Bilbo knew how when he was to tell stories, he changed. His eyes grew wider and his cheeks got a natural flush, and a smile would tug at his lips. Before he began he inhaled deeply, his voice turning richer.

“Around Bree, there is a forgotten tavern all travelers know and whose name does not matter. When you started talking about the tavern, everyone who had visited instantly knew which one it was, and those who did not would never know.

“And in this old tavern, there was an old man, the drunk of big smiles and endless rants. Whenever a man would enter the place the drunk would croak, speaking to no end and annoying every bloke. To this men frowned upon, walking away and to their business they’d go on. And the tavern keeper, hobbit he was, was so restless when none but one to the tavern would come in, started to see that he’d need to get rid of the loyal drunk.”

Thorin decided to put his quill down and hear with rapt attention, annoyed once again how Bilbo was still the only being he knew who could entice him so.

“His opportunity he took when the drunk had struck a conversation with a couple of men who actually did not mind him, grinning and speaking and laughing and crying.

“The poor drunk had said, ‘I never drink enough to forget my poor wife, no drink in this land can ever fulfill me!’

“To this the tavern keeper remembered intently, waiting all night for the men to leave before he said, ‘Do you really believe there is no drink that would fill you?’

“The drunk nodded wildly, ‘No drink has and no drink will.’

“The tavern keeper grinned wickedly, ‘I know of a drink that could fulfill to your desire. It is on a place known to me.’

“The drunk looked up at him happily, ‘Why then show me this place! Show me!’

“And so he and the tavern keeper walked for day and night, through the Old Forest until finally reaching the Brandywine River.

“The drunk frowned, ‘Where is this place with this drink that will fill me?’

“’We are almost there,’ the tavern keeper said soothingly. ‘We just need a boat and then we will find it.’

“What the poor drunk did not know was the wicked tavern keeper’s plan, to throw him off the boat and let him drown! ‘That drink should fill him up,’ the tavern keeper thought grimly.

“On the boat they got in, on the boat they went, through the treacherous water that would take a life that night.

“’If you lean close you will see it,’ the tavern keeper said quietly.

“’Where?’ said the drunk eagerly, leaning too much to the edge of the boat.

“But what neither had noticed in their anticipation was the high rock on the front, and when the boat struck it this sent the drunk to fall back on the boat when it sent the tavern keeper flying into the waters. And the poor drunk, who did not know how to swim, could do nothing about him drowning.

“Around Bree, there is a forgotten tavern all travelers know and whose name does not matter. There an old drunk will serve the travelers, telling everyone who will listen how he came to be the new tavern keeper.”

Bilbo ended the story with an air of importance, smiling absentmindedly at what were probably memories that came with the story, memories of grass and running and the green hills of the Shire.

He finally looked up expectantly at Thorin. “Well?”

“It was a strange story,” Thorin said slowly. “I believed hobbits were creatures incapable of malice.”

“It is extremely rare, but not unheard of,” Bilbo shrugged. “And I feel as if the story is more of a warning. We can’t swim and it is very frowned upon to go on boats—it is too dangerous. And it also is about not leaving Hobbiton. That is probably why the hobbit was depicted as malignant. Those who wander too far from the Shire are always criticized and judged, and those who leave are practically all ostracized.”

Thorin frowned. “Including you?”

Bilbo’s smile automatically wiped from his face. “Not exactly. I still live on Bag End and many still sympathize me because of my parents.” Bilbo remembered these last summers, how people talked ill of him when they thought he could not hear and how many old friends were not willing to speak to him anymore. Because he was different. “But yea,” he said quietly, “Including me.”

Both grew quiet, Bilbo out of miserableness and Thorin out of fury. How could anyone shun Bilbo? How could anyone have the heart to willingly not see him and talk to him every single day? The mere idea in his head sounded ridiculous. He wanted to travel all the way to Bag End just to yell at every single one who had the nerve to do this.

In the silence they somehow continued to grade papers, but it was not the same. Thorin could tell by Bilbo’s slouched back and the slowed nature of the pen scratches. And this Thorin would not take.

He knew that Bilbo did not know of the implications of a dwarf revealing a story. When the language of Khuzdul, the secret language of dwarfs, leaked into everyone, a part of the dwarf culture was revealed to everyone as well, making it less precious as it had been for ages before. Dwarfs learned to replace this hollow with stories and tales, since young them taught not to reveal them to no one.

Very dramatic, really.

Thorin took a deep breath, his voice seeming louder on the silent room as he spoke, “In the First Age by the Lone-Lands, the dwarfs of Ered Luin there would roam. And in the dwarfs of Ered Luin was the line of Dûrambhar, young brother and sister only remaining.”

Bilbo looked up, startled by Thorin’s voice, expecting Thorin to not tell a tale after at all. With attentiveness he listened.

“The sister’s name was Mim, and she lived on the Lone-Lands with grace and brightness. But she was alone. Her brother, no matter his youth, had the kingdom Gabilgathol to rule, known today as Belegost. Girl dwarfs were scarce and all would be intimated by her. Boy dwarfs sneered at her. Adult dwarfs ignored her. And so she had no one to care for her.

“In her loneliness she would venture the woods, treading under trees and listening to the sound of life, there feeling the closest to having a friend. One night when wandering out of the roads and into a brook where she had been warned to avoid, there she found a boy.

“The boy was curious, taller and fairer with white blonde hair. She figured out he was not a dwarf, for he was too slender and his ears were pointed. But she did not care; that day she had made a friend.

“Deep in her heart she knew him to be an elf, and likewise the elf knew her to be a dwarf. The Sindarin elves and the Ered Luin dwarfs had been on a war since memory, vowing eternal hatred towards each other. And yet both naïve elf and dwarf did not care, for in each other they accepted their flaws.

“But with the end of youth came the end of innocence and naiveté, the meetings between each other less and less frequent, and taking place more and more in the secrecy of the night. Mim had turned to a woman, dark and beautiful. The dwarf had grown as well. And in their young, reckless nature they fell in love under the stars.

“Yet the war called the elf and to Mim he wouldn’t return for some time. The elf battled with reluctance but with distinction, and after he was permitted to return home in his restlessness left the main path and traveled to the forest, in search Mim. Mim he did not find, instead running into a whole troop of dwarfs marching home.

“Mim heard of the execution of some elf the next day and she did not wish to see such atrocity, but curiosity of who it was won over her and she ventured to the gallows where it would take place. At seeing her beloved about to be shot, she screamed and ran through the thick crowd, throwing herself in front of him and warning the executioner he’d have to go through her first.

“The king was informed of what was happening, and the dwarf king, so far away he did not recognize the girl being her sister, ordered the executioner to kill her too. To put his dwarf girl as an example, of what happens when you defy the king.”

“But what the king did not think of was the persistence of those in love, and somehow, the arrow pierced through Mim without even leaving a scratch on the elf. When the king had realized what had happened and who he had killed it had been too late, and he had let out a bloodcurdling yell to the heavens. Through his grief he decided to let go of the elf boy, asking for his forgiveness, for the peace of the two realms in the name of her sister.

“The elf traveled to the Sindarin, his home, and told his story to the king. The elf king was awed, and in seeing the maturity and wisdom the dwarfs could be capable of he accepted the dwarf king’s peace.

“Both realms lived through peace and prosperity, and the elf boy lived a long life as an advisor to both elf and dwarf king before his grief overpowered centuries and he ceased to be, meeting Mim in whatever is destined to all of us after death.”

His voice carried throughout the room, dying at once. Bilbo stared at him, awed. He opened in close his mouth, but no sound came.

“You could have said we were telling _those_ kinds of stories!” Bilbbo finally said, exasperated.

Thorin smiled. Bilbo did not know the reason why he had told this particular story. To be frank Thorin did not know himself. In his youth he had scoffed at the dwarf girl, thinking her love of the dwarf ridiculous, a flaw. But now, a bubbling sympathy grew inside of him for her.

The stack of essays was gone, a less than a dozen remaining. Professor Oakenshield took a piece of parchment Bilbo had graded and nodded in approval.

“Very good, Mr. Baggins. I can see you are at least good on doing essays.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bilbo replied sharply.

“Your skills concerning protection against the dark arts are dreadful, of course,” Thorin said this matter-of-factly.

Bilbo looked at him, heavily offended. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Well, it’s not a skill I find to be useful for me later in life.”

“If this is true, then why did you enroll yourself in the class?”

Bilbo opened his mouth only to close it again. He dramatically slammed another essay on the desk and started grading it furiously.

Bilbo did have a reason, but it was too silly to be said out loud. All over Middle-Earth, on the calm land of the Shire even, the orc raids were very known and feared. Rumors of a dark force did not make the fear fade away any sooner, but that was all that they had been: rumors. The darkness was not returning.

“You know, I could assist you in your lessons.”

Bilbo’s grim thoughts vanished in an instant. He turned to look at Thorin, eyes wide. “Assist?”

“Some personal tutorials would not harm you, Bilbo. I usually do not give this option, but then again your situation is quite…unique.”

“Yes!” Bilbo said too quickly. “I mean…yes, I believe that would be helpful.”

Thorin nodded, proceeding his grading.

Later on the night, Bilbo could not help but yawn and Thorin noticed.

“It is late,” Thorin said, noticing the time to be after midnight. “You should go now. Get some sleep.”

“But tomorrow is Sunday,” Bilbo protested before realizing a normal student usually does not protest to being dismissed from detention.

“Go,” Thorin sharply said.

Bilbo huffed in annoyance, walking next to Thorin as he escorted him, walking him out the door. Outside no students or teachers could be seen or heard wandering the halls anymore. Perhaps it was late.

Professor Oakenshield stood there, holding the door open. “And now that you are to leave, you can tell me why you have been angry at me.”

Bilbo was stunned; he had thought he had done well on hiding it. “It may be because you called my skills dreadf—“

“No,” Thorin said simply.

Bilbo deflated. He muttered in the smallest of voices, “Why did you choose me to have in detention? Why not another?”

Thorin grinned. “Selfish reasons.”

And with this he closed the door, leaving Bilbo even more confused than he was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarfs of Ered Luin and the elves of Sindarin are canon and did quarrel, but I made up everything else.
> 
> Beta reader needed! If interested to be my beta reader, find me on my [Tumblr](http://tinkertortillion.tumblr.com/) or comment below pretty please.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin says one specific story and Bilbo meets the Gamekeeper.

The second Thorin had suggested Bilbo the private tutorials he knew it was a mistake. To consent a student was probably not approved of by other teachers. Yet before he had considered the consequences, he had already asked. Truly he was fond of Bilbo and saw that indeed he was horrible at the subject, and even though Bilbo had said these stuff were not going to be useful to him later on, the thought of him graduating without properly knowing how to defend himself made Thorin uneasy. 

There was also his own selfish reason: he enjoyed being with Bilbo. There was something about the creature that he admired. Bilbo was a bright being with flushed cheeks and curls the color of gold. Even in the hardest struggle he’d stand up again and try. His eyes would always avoid his, but when he met them, he’d see them wide and honest, a shade of gray with blue that reminded Thorin of clouded skies. His laugh was something he could not get enough of. Bilbo intrigued him, and Thorin always felt better when he was with the student. 

The hobbit himself was not helping the situation. Bilbo, who had first blushed at the smallest provocation and who shied away from Thorin’s touch, now goaded him. Personal space now meant nothing to him when practicing with Professor Oakenshield, urging casual brushing of fingers when passing books or parchment. He would not hesitate when asking Thorin to make a demonstration when Thorin gruffly knew he had no problem with the spell whatsoever. 

“Show me,” he would croon, a confidence that did not reach his sheepish smile or reddening cheeks. And Thorin, as annoyed as he’d be, would consent. 

What annoyed the dwarf were not the hobbit’s requests, or his acquired boldness, but Thorin’s own willingness to consent no matter what. He wondered once in disdain if he’d be willing to jump from the Astrology tower if Bilbo were to ask. 

*** 

With every passing day, Thorin would miss the Blue Mountains more, something he thought he would never hear himself say. He missed his kin, the laughing younglings who would greet him and the elders he met in meetings. Of course he had his nephews as well as Bofur and Ori here, but he missed joking with Dwalin. He missed Bofur and Dwalin and Nori and Bifur. He missed all of them, under the foggy darkness that came with night, around a fire, remembering that kingdom the young were too small to even have memory of. 

When Gandalf had came to ask him if he’d like to take the job as a Dark Arts teacher, it had seemed the wizard had been waiting for a right time to ask. Thorin in that moment had just succumbed to the soul-sucking routine of being a human’s silversmith, they turning somehow such a beautiful art to a nightmare of petty jewelry designing. He had just accepted the strenuous work of his days instead of the calm enlightening ones under his palace. He had learned to pretend his pain gone in order to help his people move forward. And despite all this, he had never felt so useless to his people than in there. They deserved so much more. 

So when being offered a truly honorable job, with his kin’s blessing he went off. And now not two months had passed and Thorin a homesickness that would only be compared to when he lost Erebor. 

Only that which would help was the halfling with his eagerness with stories of his people. 

In their first lesson, Bilbo had lingered on when he’d clearly been dismissed and had mumbled “Thorin” with such gentleness that even a dragon could not have said no. 

And by the week Bilbo’s request would come to be a chant, a ritual that came after the tutorial. “Tell me a story,” he would simply say, and Thorin, no matter his mood, would comply. When he would finish, Thorin would cheekily ask him to reciprocate and tell him a story back, and Bilbo would happily do it. And so their little ritual began. 

Sometimes the stories would be brief, and some nights they would last for hours, swapping anecdotes and personal moments and laughs and deep riddles. 

And one night, one particular night, only one story was told. 

*** 

It had not been a good day. 

After supervising the sixth year Apparition practice, teaching four classes, and attending _three_ meetings, Thorin had already wanted nothing more than to curl up in his room. As if that was not enough, an owl swooped behind him, nipping his ear too strongly with a letter apparently too urgent for it to come for him on the morning. 

His sister Dis was sick. 

Thorin took a sharp breath, crumbling the paper unconsciously under his fingers. His only sister, and Thorin was hundred miles away, unable to do anything about it. 

He felt so useless, collapsing into his chair in dismay. 

Bilbo had entered and seeing the dwarf’s face he immediately knew it was not a day to mess around. He frowned, confused and concerned, approaching and sitting next to his desk quietly, choosing only to review from the book today. Almost all the lesson was of Thorin speaking in a strained tone he probably did not even notice. 

The moment the lesson had ended, Bilbo let his hand hover over Thorin’s only to retrieve it and mutter softly, “Tell me a story?” It was not a demand, but a tentative question. 

Thorin wanted to say no. Not because of his day, but for the thoughts his day had brought. Dark thoughts of guilt and regret and homesickness. He was genuinely in no mood and he did not wish to show it. 

But again Thorin had fallen prey to Bilbo’s pleading eyes, and so, weary and demure, the dwarf went on to tell him a story. And what slipped through his tongue came with natural ease, speaking the story with the most importance in his life. 

Thorin cleared his throat, looking up at the past as Bilbo stayed silent, waiting. 

_The line of Durin, eldest of the Seven, survived the harsh ages, folk who in their merriment had grown to prosper on to rich lands to be known as a kingdom in a lonely mountain._

_The kingdom was ran by a king who was withering with age yet as strong as iron, blessed with a secure lineage with both son and grandson._

_The grandson was but a boy, burdened despite his youth with the well-being of his people, with his destiny to be king. But he loved his people, and even then he would have done anything for them. His people, they were happy in their prosperity, therefore so was he._

For the slightest second Thorin smiled, only for it to disappear as he went on. 

_But their happiness did not last. The great king acquired a thirst for gold, and his greed…was his destruction. In a day not more extraordinary than another, the king’s grandson could not help to notice the blood red dot on the evening sky and had only thought it the sun, but as it grew bigger and bigger and the sky grew a fading scarlet, he knew something was wrong. Wretched screams filled the air; all was lost to chaos in moments. The king’s grandson did not get to see his charms teacher that day._

_Everyone had forgotten the prince amidst the debris and ruckus. A nurse, who had taken care of him when a toddler, stumbled upon him when passing the royal doors. She found him banging the royal doors, trying to get out and help, sobbing broken incantations, wand on hand, to get it open. After being reunited with his brother and sister, all was a blur of cacophony and soot. His last memory of his home is seeing crumbling to the ground when leaving forever._

_Time did not start to pity the king’s grandson. The war took his grandfather, the king, and his brother for his own. Pressure shoved his father to insanity, leaving to never be seen again. Even his own sister left him in a way, who married and had children, leaving the king’s grandson—now king—to govern alone._

_But to govern what? There was no place to rule anymore. The king with no kingdom, now older and wiser, tried his best to lead his people to prosperity like before, but for the love of Mahal, nothing he ever did ever brought them close to bringing them back home._

_After years of pleading, of wandering with no direction, they found a land to settle. He gave them a place to live, but not a home. The king…had failed them._

The story ended and Bilbo was out of words. He did not know what to say. He knew Thorin’s words to be heavier in meaning that he let on, and he suspected the story was of a great significance to the dwarf, even more than the usual can’t-tell-you-dwarf-stories-because-they-are-not-to-be-revealed-to-not-dwarf-creatures matter, and he simply did not know what to say. 

Thorin did not expect him to, and frankly he had not intended to tell that story anyways. So with surprise he snapped his head up as the hobbit gently spoke weighed words. 

“I did not know this king.” He reached to drape his hand on Thorin’s larger one. “But I am sure of one thing about him.” Bilbo looked at Thorin firmly through his eyelashes. “And that is he did not fail his people. He could not have. He loved his people too much.” 

Thorin blinked, then could not help to grin. What a delightful liar this hobbit was. 

Self-consciousness bloomed again in the halfling, noticing his hand still over Thorin’s and jerking away immediately. He started babbling, “Well I should go, it is getting dark. I have to wake up early tomorrow for class. Actually no, tomorrow’s Saturday. Silly me.” He laughed nervously. 

Professor Oakenshield smiled warmly. “You can go now, Mr. Baggins.” 

Bilbo nodded, already standing and walking away when he hesitated, biting his lower lip. He turned around. 

“Goodnight, Thorin.” 

At the sound of his name Thorin’s lips parted in shock, but Bilbo had already closed the door behind him before he could have even thought to respond. 

*** 

Bilbo moaned miserably, hiding his face under his hands. What had he been thinking, acting like that? Every time he tried to calm down his mind would bring up the image of Thorin frozen and his own horror immobilized him again, wanting to throw himself off the Gryffindor tower. Had he ruined everything? Would Thorin have seen through him then, so obvious and longing? Would he call off the tutorials? 

At the thought Bilbo could not help but to groan into his pillow, not wanting anything else but to be swallowed by the ground. 

Hamfast and Paladin found him in this state, banging his head on the wall. Hamfast raised his eyebrow slowly and Paladin sighed, carefully placing his bag and books on his bed before walking towards Bilbo and firmly pushing him away from more harm. 

“So how was the lesson?” Paladin chirped. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Sounds like a treat.” 

“Leave him alone Paladin.” 

Paladin huffed, but thankfully let it go. At least, until next morning at breakfast, when Bilbo had been ignoring his omelet and tea completely as he hid between his crossed arms. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Not in the slightest,” came Bilbo’s pained voice, muffled by his arms. 

“Right,” said Paladin. “Changing the subject completely then, when are you coming with us to meet Bard?” 

Apparently Hamfast and Paladin did not have such an appalling detention either. The Gamekeeper had believed the two along with Fili and Kili would be alarmed simply by walking through the woods, yet he had not been aware of one single and the greatest flaw: the two brothers. 

Fili and Kili knew the forest more than any other student ever had, even recognizing what places to keep untouched. The two masters of mischief had been Radagast’s living nightmare, some claiming they had been the last straw that pushed the poor wizard to retire. Bard had not yet been warned of the two brothers. Fili and Kili were conversing happily with some centaurs by the first quarter of an hour. Bard, instead of being disconcerted or outraged, had grinned in his surprise. The five had to leave after that when they met other less friendly creatures as Fili and Kili had persuaded the gamekeeper to let them give him “a tour of their forest.” 

“Apart from almost having our throats ripped out, it was ever so pleasant,” Hamfast had deadpanned. 

“So dramatic,” Paladin had sighed. 

Long story short, the five had befriended Bard and Paladin and Hamfast were keen on Bilbo meeting him. Paladin would simply not let it go. 

“Fine,” Bilbo finally grumbled sitting up reluctantly. “When? Tomorrow?” 

“Can’t,” said Paladin. “I have Quidditch practice today and tomorrow, then homework.” 

“Monday?” 

“I rather not. We are finishing that Potions project that day and then we promised Beorn we’d help with those mandrakes.” 

“Well I can’t do it Tuesday!” Bilbo spluttered. “I have—“ 

“—tutorials,” Hamfast and Paladin droned for him. Paladin rolled his eyes. “Bilbo, I get you are pants on Defense Against the Dark Art class, but you can’t spend half your time on tutorials simply because you want very much that Professor Oakenshield would—“ 

“Fili and Kili,” Hamfast hissed. 

“—educate you more on such wonderful subject,” Paladin finished, looking up to the two standing brothers. “Hullo.” 

“Hullo,” both said cheerfully. “We are going to go bother the human gamekeeper for a while. Do guys want to join us?” 

“As tempting as that sounds,” Paladin said. “I can’t. We are going Tuesday instead.” 

“Oh, and you were not going to invite us, hobbits?” Kili accused. 

“You are invited, but you have plans already,” Hamfast snipped. 

“What?” 

“Detention.” 

Fili and Kili blinked. “Oooh, right.” 

“So what about it, Bilbo?” Hamfast looked at Bilbo pointedly. “You are falling behind classes too. It would do you good to skip a tutorial or two.” 

Bilbo sat up, dully responding. “Fine, but I first have to talk to Professor Oakenshield and I don’t really—“ 

“Oh don’t worry about that, here he comes!” Fili suddenly said. He waved his hand wildly, yelling, “Uncle! Uncle!” 

Bilbo gasped, instinctively dropping to the ground. Under the table he saw Thorin’s unmistakable boots before Hamfast grabbed his collar and yanked him up. 

Bilbo squeaked, squirming as he faced the dwarf. 

All except Thorin glared at him, making Bilbo want to dive down the table again. Fili cleared his throat. “Bilbo wanted to ask you something.” 

_Thanks, Fili._ Bilbo spluttered, “Yea I, er, I wanted to see if it was okay with you Professor Oakenshield if—because if it’s not then I understand—“ 

“I feel like we had settled on you calling me Thorin,” Professor Oakenshield interjected, amused. 

Bilbo blinked, stunned. “I-okay well—“ 

“Bilbo wanted to see if it was alright with you if he could take a week off tutorials,” said Paladin. 

All turned to Paladin, Bilbo glowering at him furiously. 

“Is this true, Mister Baggins?” 

Bilbo continued to glare at Paladin, who looked coolly back. Bilbo turned to Thorin. “I-yes,” Bilbo said, adding. “And if I am to call you Thorin, you might as well call me Bilbo.” Thorin’s eyes grew slightly wider, both holding a lingering gaze for a long, silent moment. 

Fili’s mouth dropped open and Kili stared. Thorin stood up straighter. “Very well then, as you wish.” His voice was normal, but his mouth, which just a moment held a delighted smirk, now tugged down at the corners in an unmistakable frown. Bilbo (or everyone else for that matter) could not help to notice this, but Bilbo blinked and it was gone. “I do not see why not. I’ll see you and Mister Took on Monday then. And you two,” he added to Fili and Kili, looking at them gravely. “How is your mother?” 

“Mmm? Oh, mother is fine. She’ll be up and about in a week,” Fili responded, nodding kindly. 

Relief flickered on Thorin’s face. “Good. Farewell then.” He turned around, walking out of the hall. 

Fili and Kili watched as their uncle left, bewildered. When he was gone, both turned to look at Bilbo, who had also been seeing Thorin leave too. He was also frowning unhappily, pushing his untouched food away from him, muttering, “I’m not hungry” and leaving too. 

Fili and Kili were completely flustered. After the most awkward moment of silence Kili blurted out towards Paladin and Hamfast, “Er, did we miss something?” 

*** 

The three had settled on meeting in the Gamekeeper’s hut. If they were to meet before, it would intervene with Hamfast’s Herbology club and Bilbo squishing in some more time on finishing homework he had previously neglected. Hamfast had told Bilbo that they would meet at noon sharp. Bilbo came half an hour after that just to avoid the uncomfortable event of him being the first to arrive. 

Of course when Bilbo had gone on to the Gamekeeper’s house neither Hamfast nor Paladin were there. If both had agreed to punish Bilbo’s neglect on them by this or they simply had come before, Bilbo did not know. 

He knocked on the door of the shabby hut, waiting anxiously for Paladin or Hamfast to answer, but instead the Gamekeeper, Bard Bowman, opened the door abruptly. He did not seem quite surprised at Bilbo’s appearance. 

“Ah, Bilbo Baggins, am I right?” He smiled pleasantly. “Mister Took told me you would come, along with Mister Gamgee.” He looked around, frowning. “Yet I see they are not with you.” 

“We were meant to meet here, er.” What was he to do now? “I can just come back later if—“ 

“Come in,” Bard said, ignoring his request. He went inside himself, letting Bilbo step nervously inside. 

The hut was not at all big, a humble, crowded thing yet comfortable in every way. There was a bow hanging next to the door which Bilbo almost hit. All the walls were draped with rags that had stories and gorgeous patterns weaved into them. The hut was not at all ordered, but not dirty either. Visibly next to the largest couch there was a picture of two girls, most probably related and smiling, and an older boy, who probably was the Gamekeeper when younger. 

“Are those your sisters?” Bilbo curiously asked before having time to shy away from the question. 

Bard looked up distractedly, his eyes falling on the picture. “No, those are my children.” Bilbo raised his eyebrows. Bard appeared back with two steaming teacups. “Tea?’ 

Automatically Bilbo wanted to say no, but tea sounded like a good excuse to not be talking and therefore not be accompanied in awkward silence, so he said yes. Bard seemed calm and did not understand Bilbo’s constant nervous shuffling. To stop Bilbo sat down. 

“I understand you are a friend of Bofur too?” 

“I am,” Bilbo said. “I know him since I was in first year. We both had Potions class. It was also our first class so you can imagine the first day, entering that eerie classroom with the mysterious fumes coming from cauldrons. Bofur and I sort of helped each other survive in there.” 

“So you are good in Potions then?” 

“Not at all,” Bilbo laughed. “The first day I set my cauldron on fire.” Bard joined him in laughter. 

“I am guessing Professor Thranduil put you in detention?” Bard said after the laughter ended. 

“Oh no! He put me in detention the second time, when I set the classroom on fire.” Both laughed. When the laughter died, Bilbo felt like he had to leave something clear. “Professor Thranduil is not that bad, you know.” 

“Oh I know”, Bard said casually, serving the tea. 

Bilbo stared at Bard. “I thought you were not fond of him.” 

Bard grinned. “You are mistaken. I believe you mean to say it is Professor Thranduil who is not fond of me.” 

“I have to say I quite do not know why he holds such an attitude towards you,” Bilbo wondered aloud. 

Bard did not answer, but proceeded on giving Bilbo a mug of tea, who gratefully took it. It was beginning to get chilly even inside the hut. 

“Hamfast tells me you are fond of gardening.” Bilbo noticed Bard changing the subject. 

“You could say that.” Bilbo thought the word _fond_ was being moderate, yet he did not feel on correcting the Gamekeeper. 

“What do you think of my garden, then?” 

Bilbo looked up at Bard questioningly. “I did not see it.” 

“It is in the back. You can see by the window, if you’d like.” 

Curious, he leaned in and twisted his head in order to see through the window properly. Bilbo held his breath. 

The garden was crowded with the most beautiful of flowers, camellias and violas and russell lupines. They clung to the fresh earth, right next to an even bigger garden of tomatoes, squash, lettuce, and colossal pumpkins that were probably being grown for Halloween. He squeaked in delight when he saw that Bard had his favorite flower, a rare crocus species that Bilbo thought only flowered in the Shire winter. Beorn himself did not have these. 

“How did you get those?” Bilbo said, not taking his eyes of the flowers. 

“I am afraid I cannot take much credit,” Bard said. “The former Gamekeeper cultivated most of the plants here.” 

Bilbo still had his face pressed on the window, practically drooling at the sight of the breathtaking garden. Bilbo was starting to notice even more exciting fauna species he had only seen in textbooks. 

“The garden has done well on keeping itself well in the summer, but winter’s approaching and I am afraid I am no expert in gardening. It would be a shame to leave it to the winter’s mercy. Would you mind—?” 

In the blink of an eye Bilbo was leaving his cup of tea on the table and rushing outside. Bard could not help but chuckle, following him to the garden. 

*** 

The clouds had ceased to cover the skies and the sun loomed over freely. The rain left the pleasant smell of humid earth hanging around the air, the horizon of the Forbidden Forest chirping with life as Thorin strolled by. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, moments such as these being the closest for him to remember a land far away from here. Thorin failed to see the horror in the Forbidden Forest, to him simply mysterious and infinite; he had that in common with his nephews. The trees reigned tall and old, holding secrets the dwarf would never hear. 

He would never tell his nephews that he wandered inside the forest, of course, for that would make them believe they could also roam freely. He rather not be yelled at by the new Gamekeeper for encouraging them. 

Heading towards the castle, the hut of the human could be seen from afar, and Thorin gazed at it in thought. He had heard very little of the human, except for the ridiculous quarrels of him and Professor Thranduil the staff could not help but gossip about at dinner tables. Thorin sneered. If he had to deal with that elf as much that human, Thorin could not have helped getting in a quarrel or two either. 

Thorin stopped, scowling as he noticed the human chatting happily outside his hut with a smaller being…a hobbit? Thorin walked carefully closer, keeping his distance yet close enough to identify whoever the creature was. 

Indeed it was a hobbit, and Thorin could recognize those curls of honey anywhere. Bilbo was kneeling on the earth, inspecting tall flowers with evocating, lavender petals. He held the stems dearly, staying quiet in concentration for what felt like minutes, then taking the earth from the top of the roots and putting it between his fingers. He turned to Bard and said something, and the human barked a laugh. Thorin’s eyes narrowed, his throat suddenly turning dry. 

Bilbo, eyes still on the flowers, spoke something Professor Oakenshield could not hear and beckoned Bard to see something, and the human did. In his eagerness to hear their conversation, Thorin must have been careless in being discreet, for the Gamekeeper had suddenly glanced towards him and grinned, calling towards him, “Professor Oakenshield!” 

Thorin jumped, suddenly very aware of him having been staring. He walked towards them smoothly. He could see Bilbo’s shocked, pale face. 

“Mister Bowman,” he paused a second before saying slowly, “Mister Baggins.” 

A muscle in Bilbo’s jaw twitched. “Professor Oakenshield,” he shot back quietly. 

“And what reason brings you here, Professor Oakenshield?” 

Thorin raised his eyebrow. “It is a beautiful day. I felt compelled to walk through the woods,” he said shortly. 

“Ah,” Bard nodded. “You share that with your nephews. They like wandering the Forbidden Forest. They enjoy it _too_ much if you ask me.” Bard laughed. 

Thorin did not laugh. “They are quite the troublemakers, I admit.” He turned to see the hobbit, who was looking at him blankly. “I cannot think where did they got it from.” 

“I have an idea,” Bilbo could not help to mutter, yet it seemed the dwarf did not hear him. 

“It seems that I should return. It was a pleasure seeing you, Mister Bowman.” 

“Likewise,” Bard smiled, taking Thorin’s hand in farewell before Thorin left towards the castle. 

Bilbo said nothing. 

By the time Thorin had reached his classroom he felt sick, an uncomfortable feeling that did not let him concentrate in the slightest. 

He gave up on trying to plan next month’s lesson and stared at the ceiling, musing over what was the cause of his uneasiness. Slowly, the image of Bilbo and Bard speaking over the flowers appeared dimly on his mind, and the image made his blood boil. 

Thorin huffed in annoyance. Deep inside he knew his…whatever this was, to be illogical. It was simply ridiculous. _Impossible,_ even. Bard would never dare. And the hobbit much less, for in the end Bilbo was… 

Thorin grunted and pinched his nose. _Bilbo was a student and he was a teacher._ The thought crowded his mind, repeating itself cruelly over and over, and now it all made sense. Suddenly the dwarf’s throat went dry and he felt his insides withering. It became hard to breathe. 

Another image appeared in his mind clearer than anything else, what he wanted so obvious now and yet so terrifying: the image of the garden and the flowers, of Bilbo explaining enthusiastically of the fauna and where they came from and how they were taken care of just as he had only moments ago, except that he was not with Bard, but Thorin. Thorin would listen carefully and attentively too, and when the halfling would finish explaining, the dwarf would answer by meeting Bilbo’s lips with his tenderly. 

A fluttering panic grew inside Thorin enough to burst. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Quidditch match, a drinking contest, and a boggart.

It just had rained, and the damp, red earth under Bilbo’s feet would stick and feel coarse as he kneeled, tending a yellowing camellia and thought. It was almost night, a chattering of flying birds clouding the golden sunset. The wind started to bite maliciously at his pinking skin. From afar the castle started to glow from inside. He knew it was time to leave, but the flowers needed caring, and he would not be able to come to Bard’s tomorrow. Bilbo’s fingers were numb from raking the pumpkin roots but he kept tending the camellias.

Hamfast struggled silently at his side, spade stubbornly on hand as he dug a hole deep enough to plant strawberry seeds. Bilbo grinned. If there was one student at Hogwarts who knew more about gardening than he, it was Hamfast. Hamfast huffed in contempt and drew out his wand, muttering something under his breath. Four holes identical to the ones he had just dug appeared side by side, and Hamfast happily dropped the remaining seeds inside each one and filled them by sliding mountains of soil individually.

Bilbo smirked. “Using magic, are we?”

“What about it?” Hamfast said, half defiantly and half sheepishly, turning to study the squash.

“What about all that ‘There’s nothing like planting your own trees’ rubbish?”

Hamfast’s round face darkened. “Shut up, Bilbo.”

Bilbo laughed, his mirth turning into chuckles. The sun was about to disappear. “I wonder when Bard will come back,” he sighed.

“Bard told us not to wait for him to come back,” Hamfast said gruffly to the earth. He snapped his head up. “It’s getting dark.”

“We should get going,” Bilbo agreed, already standing up. The wind was howling, and the now scarlet sky gave the Forbidden Forest from afar an eerie look. It struck Bilbo then how this was autumn at its finest. It made him smile. “Paladin will be worried.”

“It is not our fault that he did not want to come with us,” Hamfast’s eyebrows creased.

“He had Quidditch practice.”

“Oh practice, practice. Doesn’t he deserve a break?”

“Their match with the Ravenclaws is in three days.”

“Your point is?”

“I dunno—hey, is that Bard?”

Hamfast narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but who is that he is holding by the neck?” His eyes blew wide. “It’s Kili.”

“What?” The two figures stepped farther away from the evergreen trees and it became clear that it was no other but the young dwarf, robes askew and arms crossed in contempt. Bilbo leaned in and looked closer, curious.

“It is Kili” said Hamfast, awed. “It’s been awhile since we’ve seen that mad dwarf. Oi!” Hamfast bellowed, raising his hand and waving it wildly. “Bard! Kili!”

Bard’s head snapped towards their direction, and his face broke into a smile. “Ah, Hamfast. Is that Bilbo with you?”

“Yep!”

“Good!” Bard said back, walking towards them, Kili still in his grasp. “Just the two hobbits to help me.”

“What can we help you with?” Bilbo said politely, looking up at the human.

“Do me a favor and escort Mr. Kili to the Gryffindor tower,” Bard said bitingly. “And I would be furtherly grateful if you could inform his uncle of his and Fili’s misdoings. This is just getting ridiculous.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bilbo said placidly. He beckoned Kili to follow him as he and Hamfast continued walking back to school. “Goodbye, Bard!”

“Goodbye, boys.”

“You know, that human is very good at his job,” Kili announced. “He’s caught my brother and I more than Radagast ever did in three years.”

“Why do you sound so smug? Is that not supposed to be a problem?”

“Well yes, I guess,” Kili shrugged, a devious smile appearing on his lips. “Or maybe he’ll make our trips much more interesting.”

“Kili, _what_ do you even do in there?” Hamfast asked, exasperated.

“It’s better you don’t know, little hobbit,” Kili said importantly.

“Probably just goes around passing his time swatting pixies,” Hamfast said under his breath. Bilbo laughed.

Kili scowled not unlike his uncle. “Better than gardening.”

Bilbo grinned. “I beg to differ.” The grounds disappeared, entering the castle illuminated by fire and full of stretched shadows. “But I must say, I am glad I’ll go back to Thorin’s lessons soon.”

At his comment Kili’s gait slowed, grimacing. “Yea, of course. Right. I better go off.” He turned around on his heels and walked in long strides on the opposite corridor, away from the tower.

Hamfast and Bilbo stared at the distancing figure. “O-kay,” Hamfast said slowly.

“That was odd.”

“Since you developed a crush on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher odd is normal to me,” Hamfast yawned. “Let’s just go study for Transfiguration.”

Bilbo kept his gaze lingering where Kili departed. He nodded.

The common room was flooded with people. They shouted and laughed and chatted and would not let Hamfast and Bilbo concentrate. It got to a point that Hamfast burst, flicking out his wand and booming, “ _SILENCIO!_ ” He was promptly expelled from the common room for the night. Paladin, who had been lost in a conversation with the Gryffindor Beaters, glowered at them both, unable to do otherwise until someone in the room figured finally out how to repel the charm silently.

Bilbo could not help but to laugh at the whole thing.

The moon that hung over the window now bid Bilbo’s eyes to droop sleepily. He yawned. Bilbo changed his clothes and settled over his bed, the blankets turning his sleepiness thicker until his eyes were too heavy to open and his mind turned blissfully silent as well.

It did not last.

***

Bilbo had noticed Thorin’s odd reaction that day with Bard, of course he had. Thorin’s face had darkened and his fists had noticeably clenched. Arguing and handling an angry Thorin was something Bilbo was used to, as he had proved when tutorials had gone wrong sometimes. So he had not thought much on that evening until Hamfast, Paladin, and Bilbo were walking towards the library and had happened to run into Fili and Kili. The two brothers reacted immediately, turning around, a step away from breaking into running.

The three hobbits were befuddled. Hamfast and Bilbo exchanged a glance with raised eyebrows and Paladin said, “Has it struck you guys that we have not seen much of them two lately?”

“Haven’t even seen them passing by since we ran into Kili yesterday,” Hamfast said softly.

The three looked at each other questioningly.

It had happened again on dinnertime. The two brothers were walking out of the Great Hall and caught a glance at them before rushing to get lost in a corridor. The three reacted quickly.

“Stop right there!” Paladin shouted dangerously. The two brothers froze. They turned around with a fake smile.

“Ah, Paladin,” said Fili. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Of course you didn’t. Why have you two been avoiding us?”

“We have not,” Kili said, affronted. “I just saw you yesterday.”

“Yea, before running away the second we got into the castle,” said Hamfast.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Bilbo spoke, “Look Kili, if it is about me telling Thorin about you wandering the Forbidden Forest, don’t worry about it. He already knows anyways, no reason to remind him.”

Fili and Kili looked at Bilbo for the first time, and their faces held true guilt and miserableness. “Oh Bilbo, don’t be kind,” Fili groaned. “You’ll only make this harder for us.”

“Make _what_ harder?” Bilbo said.

“Bilbo, can you wait? We are trying to make Uncle snap out of it.”

“What did Thorin say?” A dull, unpleasant feeling had started to flicker inside Bilbo’s chest.

“Give us a couple of days to change his mind,” Kili persisted.

Bilbo laughed hollowly. “We three know not even the Minister of Magic himself can make Thorin change his mind. Just tell me.”

“But—“

“Just tell me,” Bilbo repeated.

Fili fell silent. Kili sighed an bowed his head before stuttering, “Er, Uncle—I mean Professor Oakenshield—wanted us to inform you that, well, that you have improved immensely in his class and um, your private lessons are…over.”

Two second years passed the corridor, their voices deafeningly loud in their pass. A dull buzzing started to poke Bilbo’s ears. He felt numb, like when one gets burned and the pain has not kicked in yet. Paladin looked enraged out of words and Hamfast kept opening and closing his mouth.

“Oh” was all said, all Bilbo could say. “Okay.”

Everyone was looking at him, waiting.

“Bilbo,” Paladin said in the gentlest voice. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Bilbo said. “Oh yes, yes.” His voice had started to tremble, and Bilbo hated that. He cleared his throat. “I actually have to go.”

Bilbo knew that the three were looking at him sympathetically as he left. He wished they wouldn’t. His insides felt on fire. His head felt cold and unconnected to his body. All around him did not matter. It felt like a dream.

He thought of the lessons, of the wary question and endless demonstrations, of Thorin not minding to repeat himself because Bilbo was not listening, of the victory in understanding. He thought of the wary touches, the brief eye lingering, and the fluttering hope. And the stories.

In his numbness he bumped into someone and did not bother to apologize. If people were not around he would gladly sink on his knees right then and there in the middle of the corridor and lay there with his cheek on the cold stone.

No more hearing of Thorin’s stories. Of epic battles and love tragedies. Of taking care of his nephews when babies. Of the Blue Mountains and Erebor. Of unnecessarily detailed anecdotes on why his sister Dis cheated on Quidditch matches when he was young.

No more of Thorin’s stories. No more Thorin.

The worst part, the part that made Bilbo flinch without will, was that it was true. Bilbo had gotten significantly better. He was not on the edge of failing anymore—quite the contrary. There was absolutely no reason for Thorin to still teach him anymore. Not one.

In his mind he saw Thorin realizing this, changing his view of Bilbo’s tutorials, not a necessity anymore, but a disturbance. Plucking his time with Bilbo like Bilbo plucked the shriveling, yellowing leaves of his plants.

All around him did not matter.

The pitch-black skies made the castle turn darker and somehow, Bilbo found himself five footsteps from Thorin’s classroom. He knew the professor was probably not there, no reason to being so late in a Friday.

_Why?_ The question at last dared to fade into his mind. _Why did Thorin not like him?_ A thousand logical answers exploded in Bilbo’s mind. He’s a student, he’s a hobbit, he’s young, he’s weak against the Dark Arts, he sometimes laughs too hard at bad jokes, he has a passion for gardening, he’s unlovable.

Each and every reason evaporated at the image of Thorin’s smirking face in his mind.

The weight of his grief finally made Bilbo’s knees give away and buckle. He remained standing up only as he leaned into the door. His breath became shallow, sprawling his hands on the rough wood, trying to hold on as if his life depended on it. Him leaning made the door creak slightly and his hands turned into fists when there was nothing to grab, to feel fold between his fingers.

His throat felt heavy, his eyes watered, but he blinked the tears away.

A part of him wanted to yell, to punch the door until his hands turned raw and shout until his voice turned into a tired croak, demanding Thorin to open the door. He wanted to ask why to Thorin, to make him clarify, to make him tell Bilbo all of this in his face.

But Bilbo was a Baggins and a Baggins did not mourn over what was never his. A Baggins is honorable, respectable, reasonable. One of the only things he remembers his father telling him in that little hobbit hole surrounded by so many books and scrolls.

He knew the only thing to do now was the logical thing from the start. Forget and pray this incident of his heart is never discovered.

With a deep, shaky breath he stands up. He manages to align his posture and slowly walk, away from Thorin’s classroom and to the tower in the most strained gait he could manage, like had done a thousand times before. He did not go to class the next day.

***

It was time.

The stadium was roaring in a sea of blue, gray, scarlet and gold, stretching out to form waves and holding signs with things such as “GO RAVENCLAW” and “Fear Gryffindor!”, almost all enchanted to change their words every second or so. The excitement was palpable in the air.

Bilbo and Hamfast sat down, waiting for the match to start. Bilbo was on the edge of his seat, looking around eagerly at all the exhilaration around him. “Fili was not lying,” Bilbo cried. “That little first year dwarf is the new speaker!”

“Who?’ Hamfast leaned forward.

“Ori!”

“And so we are off!” Ori boomed at the microphone, making the whole stadium twitch. He quickly lowered his tone after the recognizable voice of Professor Proudfoot’s barked at him. “Oops, sorry there folks. Apparently the Ravenclaw players are barely getting in position.”

“How did a first year even get to be speaker?” Hamfast said incredulously.

At the sound of Ori’s voice all dwarves from every house shouted in happiness, deafening the whole stadium.

“That’s why,” Bilbo smiled.

“Gryffindor’s already positioned, and the game begins!” Ori says. “Chaser Legolas immediately takes the ball, dodges it from Rendil. He tries to pass it to Bratt but—ooh, she misses it! Ravenclaw tries to retrieve it but Legolas is too fast. Legolas gets closer. HE PASSES IT TO TAURIEL. TAURIEL SHOOTS AND-“ The rest of his sentence was lost to the cheers and hisses of the crowd. “TAURIEL SCORES! SHE SCORES!”

The Gryffindors are ecstatic. By Tauriel’s sixth score in a row all the signs had changed to say “GO TAURIEL!” The fifth year elf could be seen beaming at every cheer, fiery red hair whooshing with every move.

When the ball would be taken from them Paladin would immediately come to the rescue, refusing to let one Quaffle pass.

“Is that a hobbit?” said Ori. “I didn’t know hobbits were good Keepers. Chasers maybe, and even Beaters—” Bilbo could not have missed Professor Proudfoot’s growl. “—but Paladin Took has made me eat my words, obviously.”

The game was almost over. Ravenclaw knew they were on trouble, and the game turned more intense. It got to the point that when the Ravenclaw Chaser was getting dangerously close to scoring, one of the Gryffindor Beaters sent a Bludger to her only to miss and hit Paladin straight in the face instead. Like a limp doll, he fell off his broom and to the floor, unmoving.

“HOBBIT DOWN!” Ori screamed over the cries and gasps of the crowd. “HOBBIT DOWN!”

“Paladin!” Hamfast shouted. Bilbo was already moving out of his seat. In the midst of all the chaos no one noticed that the Snitch had been caught.

Even when the Ravenclaw Seeker caught the Snitch Ravenclaw had no chance; Gryffindor won with a whopping 190-170. The Gryffindor fans stood up to an uproar, crowding the team into suffocating in a rush of red and gold. Some Ravenclaw players could not even help but to grin, Gryffindor fans going on to congratulate them on the game and clapping them on the back appreciatively, cracking jokes to cheer them up.

But Bilbo and Hamfast noticed nothing of this, rushing to get by Paladin’s side. They moved through the thin circle of a crowd surrounding the hobbit, where Professor Galadriel was already inspecting him. Paladin was sitting up and was thankfully conscious, moaning in pain and clutching his leg. His uniform was matted in grass and torn right below his left kneecap, exposing a gruesome lesion.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Paladin smiled weakly, turning to a pained grimace as Professor Galadriel tapped her wand on his wound, making a bandage wrap itself over it.

"No, Paladin. It really looks bad," Hamfast said.

“I could cure your wound," said Professor Galadriel. "But I rather send you to Mister Oin, since I don’t know the severity of it. By the looks of it you could have broken a bone.”

Paladin face lost all of its color.

Mister Oin seemed pleased in seeing the three. “So this is the famous hobbit that won Bofur on getting in the team,” he said as he inspected his leg.

Paladin looked up at the dwarf. He did not seem resentful. “Yes. Do you know Bofur?”

“I do!” Oin said merrily. “I know him and his cousin from the Blue Mountains. Bifur did not get magical powers though, brave lad that he is.” He opened a white cupboard and took out a medicine bottle labeled _Skele-Gro._ “Not many of us do.”

He poured enough to fill half of the cup, handing it to Paladin. “Here, this’ll fix you. It tastes awful so I’d drink it in a gulp if I were you.”

Paladin took the cup and stared at it wearily, swallowing the whole thing before choking and wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“The wound I can fix but the broken bone will take more time,” Mister Oinexplained, gently tapping his wand on Paladin’s wound. The scratches and ugly red gash immediately seemed a week older than they were, then disappeared altogether. “If you’re lucky you’ll be free to go before dinner. Just rest.”

“You heard him, Paladin,” Hamfast snipped as Oin left. “We’ll stay here and you rest.”

“Yeah, mate,” said Bilbo, nudging Paladin playfully on the shoulder. Paladin winced. “We’re here for you. We’ll never leave your sight today.”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Paladin, not sounding thankful at all. “I really appreciate it guys, but I really do need to rest. Alone would be better. I feel exhausted.”

“Oh,” Hamfast blinked.

“Fine,” Bilbo said coolly. “But take in mind that the team will come to greet you. You did just win a match.”

“I will,” Paladin yawned, stretching his arms and wincing once more. “I just want to see if I can sleep off this pain.”

Bilbo and Hamfast nodded. “We’ll check on you later,” Bilbo said.

“I really hope that Paladin gets better today,” Hamfast muttered as they left. “I’d feel awfully guilty if we’d go to the Quidditch after-party without him.

“We don’t have to go, you know,” Bilbo said, amused. Hamfast seemed to not have heard him.

“So how have you been feeling Bilbo?” said Hamfast, frowning. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine. Why would I not be?”

Hamfast looked at him.

“All right, all right. I may not have been after what Fili and Kili told us but now I am fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Actually I’m happy this happened. Now I saw how ridiculous I’ve been acting. Now it doesn’t even bother— _Thorin’s walking this way."_

“What?” said Hamfast. From the distance the professor could be seen walking towards them, scrolls on hand.

“Turn around,” Bilbo urged Hamfast, turning his back towards Thorin and gripping Hamfast’s shoulder.

“What? No--!”

“Just do it—“

“He saw us already--!”

“No he hasn’t—“

“Mister Baggins.”

They ceased blabbing immediately, unmoving and looking at each other in alarm. Bilbo took a deep breath, straightened his robes and turned to look at Thorin, whom was now walking towards him.

“Yes?”

Thorin looked down at him, but Bilbo simply could look at him in the eyes. He instead looked at his feet. “You did not go to my class yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“And you went to all other classes.”

Bilbo clenched his jaw. It was not a question. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Bilbo did not answer, feeling his cheeks tinting pink and his blood slowly boiling. It made his fingers tingle.

“I am afraid you missed a very important class. You will have to make up for the lesson after class.”

Bilbo snapped his head up, finally meeting Thorin’s eyes. He was wearing a cream coat of dwarfish fashion over his usual dark robe and his hair was disheveled from the outside wind. His lips were turned down unhappily and his eyes glowed.

“Yes, Professor Oakenshield. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Thorin nodded, turning to Hamfast. He bowed his head in salute and the hobbit did the same. Until he was out of sight did Bilbo let himself panic.

“I need to get out of it.”

“Bilbo, calm down.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Blast it Bilbo, just calm down!”

The hobbit inhaled deeply, slowly evening his breath. “All right,” Bilbo said. “I’m fine. No worries. I-It’s just a lesson. Just one thing.”

“Yes?” said Hamfast.

“What is a boggart again?”

Hamfast grinned ruefully.

***

Paladin had healed before nightfall as Oin had predicted. Neither Hamfast or Bilbo showed up to meet him, so he walked happily towards the tower, thinking if maybe the team was going to pamper him in the after-party. Goodness knows he would be thankful for some fun. He had been so stressed lately with the N.E.W.T.s preparations and endless Quidditch practices. A relaxing day of celebration wouldn’t go amiss.

But the poor hobbit had just climbed into the merry common room when he felt a hand pull him towards the dormitories. No one noticed.

“Ow! What is it Hamfast?” Paladin hissed as he yanked his arm from the hobbit’s grasp.

Hamfast shook his head, leading him to the unlighted dormitories, where the chatter and music of the common room echoed mockingly.

Bilbo told him everything in a rushed whisper, and Paladin’s face twisted more and more in distaste. When he finished, Paladin shortly said, “Tell him you can’t.”

Bilbo looked taken aback and Hamfast raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Tell him you can’t,” said Paladin. “I do not like this any more than you do, so just say you have a club or something. You don’t even have to tell him personally. Send him an owl or something.”

Hamfast let out a low whistle. “Paladin, your Took is showing.”

“Haha,” Paladin said bluntly. “Send him the letter in the morning. Now can we all just go relax and enjoy the party downstairs?”

Bilbo did look brighter as they joined the common room, where everyone roared as they saw their champion. Paladin was quickly lost in a tumult of the Quidditch players and admirers. Bilbo and Hamfast quietly submerged into a hobbit group.

The party gradually turned wilder and louder when a human seventh-year was shouting how he was convinced elves could handle a drink better than any dwarf. The dwarfs took this as personally as it gets and from the crowd of dwarfs Bofur emerged, challenging any elf brave enough to prove this. All the elves looked at the dwarfs good-naturedly and with amusement, some faces clearly saying oh-you-silly-things. When the dwarfs had started shooting them insults, Legolas stepped up from the crowd, always the peacemaker.

“We don’t even have drinks,” Legolas pointed out.

Bofur yelled something in Khuzdul and a stocky, red haired dwarf immediately handed him two cups of fine Firewhisky. “You were saying?”

“I’m putting my money on Bofur,” Hamfast whispered to Bilbo as Legolas had dramatically sighed and taken the Firewhiskey, led by a whooping cry of the supporting elves. Every eye in the common room was watching them now.

Bilbo looked at Bofur’s confident, smirking face. “No bet.” Hamfast snorted.

Surprisingly Legolas did know how to handle his drink well. Only by the fourth mug had he started to look pale and twitch as he was passed another. Bofur was going at it, draining the drinks down and waiting expectantly as Legolas finished his.

By the sixth Legolas’ finally swooned, and Bofur gulped his cup to the last drop before banging it on the table and raising his hands in triumph. All the dwarfs went ballistics, slapping Bofur on the back and shouting so loudly the other houses must have heard. Fili and Kili were jumping like mad.

“Why don’t they challenge the hobbits, huh?” Paladin finally appeared next to them, handing them two cups of punch.

“I think we all know the answer to that one,” Hamfast scoffed, and the three broke into laughter.

***

Everything had gone well the next morning. Bilbo woke up early to send the letter and he brightened up considerably. It started to rain cruelly outside so they chose to spend their Sunday on the library. The three tried their best to catch up on homework, but only ended up looking around the vast line of bookshelves for hobbit-related books. They were a little homesick lately.

But all calmness ended by lunch, when Bilbo was shocked when an owl carefully landed next to his plate and held a letter on its beak expectantly. Bilbo took the letter and the owl took off, but not before stealing some of his bacon. Bilbo did not even seem to notice.

“It’s probably from Professor Oakenshield,” Bilbo muttered. “I didn’t think he’d answer this quickly. Or at all.”

“Just open it, Bilbo,” Hamfast said, “Get it over with.”

Bilbo ripped it open at once, recognizing Thorin’s cursive handwriting at once. It wasn’t even formally addressed.

 

_I am actually aware that you have, in fact, no outside activities, academic or extracurricular, today. That us why I chose this day so you can make up for your unfortunate absence. You can choose not to come, but this activity contributes significantly to your grade, as Mister Took can assure you. It will be very likely you will be failing the class yet again._

_I will be expecting you at 6 o’clock sharp._

 

Bilbo unconsciously crumpled the paper in his hand as he passed it to the two to read.

“He cannot be serious!” Hamfast cried in outrage. Paladin hurriedly shushed him.

Bilbo tuned out on what they were saying after that—Paladin trying to reason the situation while Hamfast incoherently cursed Thorin—and stared at the distance of the Great Hall. He felt calm in a resigned manner, like when one knew when there was no way out but one.

Paladin and Hamfast tried their best to cheer Bilbo up as they walked him in the afternoon towards the classroom.

“Good luck,” Paladin said consolingly. “And just remember: In the end, there is nothing there to fear.”

Bilbo barked out a dry laugh at the cheesy advice, feeling some of his nervousness bleeding away. “Thank you, Paladin. I’ll be fine.”

Paladin looked at him searchingly, and then nodded. Hamfast awkwardly waved at him.

Bilbo sighed, turning to face the classroom door. He fought the impulsive to run away as far as he could and ignored the uneasy feeling that had started in his stomach. He gulped, opening the heavy wooden door. Time to get it over with.

***

The room seemed exactly the same it did every afternoon Bilbo came here. The sun would already be lowering down with the call of an approaching winter and the vast room would be vastly empty and organized except for the disarray of grading work Thorin would place in his desk. It all seemed so familiar he had the urge to crack a joke about Thorin’s sloppiness in grading and Thorin would smile.

But it was not so easy now. He stood by the door until Professor Oakenshield would recognize him there. Thorin looked up from the papers and mused, “Do get in, Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo nodded, opening the door wider and getting in. He noticed now there was something unusual inside. A cupboard was rattling impatiently on a corner, whatever in there determined to get out. The unpleasant feeling on Bilbo’s stomach deepened and his heart hammered wildly.

He had prepared himself for this, planned what to do. He had talked himself into going and getting this over with because he did not even know what his greatest fear was. He was a hobbit, what could he fear? But now that he was here, facing Thorin, it was definitely as clear as water, and it terrified him out of thought and reason. His prime instincts were dominating now, yelling for him to go, to run, to disappear.

Thorin had been too immersed on his speech of boggarts to notice any of this. “—essential that you have something specifically in mind when you say this spell, or it will not work. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Thorin said, moving towards the cupboard, which in turn rattled on more wildly. “Think hard on that what you fear. When I open the—“

“What if I offer a proposal?” Bilbo blurted out.

Thorin tilted his head, frowning.

“What if,” Bilbo started, his voice awfully thick. “I just write a very thorough essay on boggarts…instead.” His vice grew quieter, but he was determined. “I’ll learn much more really. No need to actually face it.”

The dwarf looked at him with an expression that looked almost annoyed. “No.”

“But just think about it,” Bilbo said. “It’s much more productive for me. And I could see this in a whole point of view. It’s not even like I’ll face a boggart in real life—“

“No.”

“Could you just think about it?” said Bilbo, his pleading turning to frustration. “Could you not reject every idea I have?”

“To actually confront a boggart is vital to understanding them. I cannot let you—“

“Yes you can, you’re the bloody teacher!” Bilbo yelled. “If you just—“

“Enough!” Thorin roared. Bilbo felt silent at once. His anger was replaced with the fear he had previously had. “If you do not confront the boggart this instant, I will fail you!”

“Go ahead!” Bilbo tried to say clearly, but it came out all wrong. His brittle voice cracked at the last word. He was shaking so noticeably, unconsciously making himself smaller. All of the blood from his rosy cheeks left his face. He ceased to glare at Thorin, staring at the wardrobe now as if the Reaper was waiting for him there.

At the sight of Bilbo all of Thorin’s anger vanished. He shook his head, relaxing his shoulders. He is just afraid, Thorin thought.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said in a soft voice that startled Bilbo. ”It is just a ghoul. It will not hurt you, whatever is in there. It cannot. I will not let it.”

But Thorin did not understand. Bilbo’s worst fear was not dragons or monsters. It was not a villainous warrior. At the sight of Bilbo, so vulnerable and terrified, Thorin had a sudden impulse to take him in his arms and sweep him away from here. But Bilbo had to do this, face whatever shape the creature inside that wardrobe would take.

“I can’t,” Bilbo breathed.

“At least identify what it will turn to. What is your worst fear?”

“I cannot tell you. Not you,” Bilbo whispered.

The words stabbed Thorin in the chest like a knife on fire. He closed his hands into fists and his lips tightened. There was a long, painful silence.

Thorin at last growled, “What have I ever done to make you loathe me so, Mister Baggins?”

Bilbo stared at Thorin. “What?” Bilbo said, confused.

“Why else would you hold such attitude only with me?”

“No—“

“What is it, halfling? What have I done?”

“I—”

“I understand I might not be the best at teaching—“

_“Will you just—“_

_“Then why do you hate me?”_

“I DON’T. I LOVE YOU, YOU RIDICULOUS DWARF.”

The words slipped through Bilbo’s tongue before he could stop it. They filled the great room and the walls echoed them back cruelly until they ceased at once. There was no sound to be heard, not even the rattling of the wardrobe.

Bilbo was slightly panting, his outrage slowly being replaced by pure horror. He ran his fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp so he’d feel a tingle of pain, making sure this was not a dream. That this was happening.

That was it, he was done for now. Nothing else could possibly matter now. Nothing.

Thorin was completely silent, and Bilbo could not help but look up.

The dwarf was looking at him with a set of so many emotions, Bilbo could not pinpoint half of them. But two were clearly there, one being shock and the other sympathy. And Bilbo most certainly did not want sympathy.

This.

This was all he had feared.

“Well, there you have it,” Bilbo said, his voice too distant, too calm to be his own. “You wanted me to face my worst fear. Now you know.” He turned away and left without another word, not looking back.

“Bilbo,” Bilbo heard Thorin say, and at the sound of his name he slammed the door shut and broke into running as fast as he could.

Angry tears swelled his eyes as he ran blindly, and no matter how hard he blinked them away, they overwhelmed him, running down his cheeks traitorously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In my mind Ori has a rep in the dwarf community for being so smart and courageous despite him being so young.  
> 2\. That little part with Paladin falling and saying it was nothing was completely inspired by Romeo ad Juliet’s Mercutio. No Mercutio, that is not a scratch, you are dying.  
> 3\. How the dwarfs got to get the Firewhiskey will be explained later on. And both Bifur and Legolas are both overage so that’s good.  
> 4\. It will take me more to update more because a) for a reason the chapters are getting longer and b) I don’t have a beta reader so I have to re-read this a thousand times. Even like that I’m sure I have some errors.  
> 5\. Thank you all for being such patient dearies. Find me on [Tumblr](http://tinkertortillion.tumblr.com/), if you'd like.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to Lakelove for being my beta reader, and to you guys for being so patient.

“I give up,” said Hamfast with finality, burying his head on his crossed arms.

“Come now, Gamgee.”

“It’s too much information to handle! I’ll never understand.”

“Don’t be so thick,” Paladin firmly said. “Eregion is just one kingdom.”

“But why do we have to know all of its history?” Hamfast moaned.

“A gross simplification of its history. It’s not that hard,” Paladin corrected, scowling. “Now get up.”

Hamfast groaned in protest, eventually getting up. The common room buzzed with liveliness as usual, gracefully accepting the arrival of autumn, of damper skies of gray and winds that chilled all the way through the bones, forcing the students to get out their coats and scarves wherever they would go.

“I’m fine Paladin,” Hamfast eventually said. “You’ll be late to Professor Oakenshield’s if you do not hurry up.”

“Right,” Paladin sighed. “Professor Oakenshield.”

As usual, Bilbo was nowhere to be found as class began. It had been four days since the boggart incident, and with time the situation had gone from bad to worst.

***

Paladin still remembered that day clearly.

An hour had passed after Bilbo’s lesson, then two, then three. One hour passed after another, making Paladin and Hamfast’s anxiety accumulate with time. They waited anxiously for Bilbo in the dormitory, where everyone else was sound asleep.

“That’s it!” Hamfast had blurted out. “I’m looking for him. Forget the bloody curfew.”

There was no need.

Paladin and Hamfast had not even swung open the portrait of the Fat Lady when they found Bilbo sitting in the common room, chin propped up on his knees as he curled on a sofa. He was staring glassily into the dying fireplace.

His face held no blood in it, his cheeks were tearstained and his eyes looked hollow. His robes were tattered and dirty, as if he had been sprinting around the grounds carelessly. When he spoke his voice was hoarse, and it was the most heartbreaking thing to hear. He kept repeating to himself in a rhythm of breaths, “What did I do? What did I do? _What did I do?”_

“Bilbo,” the name tasted dry on Hamfast’s tongue. “What’s wrong?”

Bilbo had whimpered in the smallest voice, as he told them everything. It made Paladin and Hamfast feel so helpless, but there was nothing that he or Hamfast could do because Bilbo was determined not to speak another word after that. When the two encouraged him to say how he felt, he shook his head and buried his head between his knees, unwilling to go with them to the dormitory.

“Why,” Hamfast had said to Paladin in the darkness of the dormitory, “does everything happen to Bilbo?”

Paladin was already half asleep and did not answer.

***

“Good morning,” Bilbo grinned at the two next morning, fumbling with his clothes. “You should have woken me up sooner! Professor Thranduil will skin me if I am late again…”

If he noticed Paladin and Hamfast staring at him as he looked for clean robes, he said nothing.

“Er,” said Hamfast. “How-How are you feeling Bilbo?”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Never been better.” He left Paladin and Hamfast gaping as he walked down to get at least a piece of toast before rushing into Potions.

It was as if the last night had never happened. Every time Paladin and Hamfast tried to bring the subject up, he acted as if he didn’t hear them and would strike up a completely different conversation.

The closest Bilbo ever acknowledged the event was when he had declared that he’d never go back to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“I’m not going,” Bilbo had simply said. “I’m done.”

“You are being ridiculous,” Paladin replied in outrage.

“I’m sorry, Paladin,” Bilbo said. “I’ve already talked to Professor Balin about it.”

“You can’t just go to the head of Gryffindor and get out of a class!”

“I know that now,” Bilbo smiled weakly. “But he said that if I was to not go anymore and fail the class, there was nothing he could do about it.”

Paladin and Hamfast thought he would grow out of this madness, but for four days, every afternoon, Paladin would walk alone to Thorin’s classroom as Bilbo would stay in his dormitory and _read_. Paladin was so furious with him on the second day, he would not talk to him. It was ridiculous! Bilbo could not fail a class because of a heartbreak! The ache would pass, but the grade would stay forever.

The third day he tried to be reasonable, forcing Hamfast to reluctantly make himself sit next to Bilbo in the library as he tried to speak with him. Hamfast rolled his eyes up to the heavens in pleading before Paladin sharply said at once, “Bilbo, look. I know…”

Paladin paused. For the first time he contemplated the delicacy of the situation. “I know that the last thing you want to do is see…him…again. But this is bigger than that, this is your education. You cannot fail! You are just going to have to redo it next year anyways. Bilbo, please! You are a Baggins. Be logical.”

Bilbo, who had been reading _Fantastic Creatures and Where to Find Them_ for the thirteenth time, sighed and placed the book down. He looked at Paladin with pure honesty in his eyes. “Paladin, do you not think I know I am not being logical?”

Paladin said nothing.

“I know I’m being illogical. I have never done anything so stupid in my life. And I…I know…” His voice began to quiver. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I know this is something my parents would not be proud of…but I just don’t know what to do. I just…” The mirage of calmness Bilbo had held the last few days faded down momentarily, and his crestfallen expression made Paladin regret mentioning anything at all. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

So by the fourth day, Paladin dropped it. At least that’s what Bilbo thought. The dormitories were dimming with the descending sun. Bilbo had just started _Stories of Rivendell_ when the hobbit slowly sat next to him. This time, Paladin’s voice was warmer.

“Thorin spoke to me.”

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat, but he did not let it show. “And?” Bilbo said, trying to sound normal.

“He asked me how you were.”

Bilbo could not help but to snap his head up.

“I told him you were fine,” Paladin said hastily. “But Bilbo…” Paladin hesitated. “He told me that you should go to class.”

“Paladin— "

“Just hear me out, all right?” Paladin said. “He said you don’t have to make up your missing work until the next test and that I can help you pick up on the days you missed. He’ll even overlook the days you haven’t gone and—“ _and the boggart incident._ Paladin did not have to finish for Bilbo to know what he meant.

Bilbo was at a loss for words. All of the arguments he had repeated to himself for days suddenly didn’t make sense to him anymore. _Typical,_ Bilbo thought sourly.

He looked down at his lap, then back at his friend. He thought of Thorin, telling Paladin in a concerned voice to convince Bilbo to go back to class.

Bilbo could not help but to give a grim smile. What a good teacher Thorin was, not permitting a student to fail on his watch. Paladin looked at him expectantly, waiting for Bilbo to respond.

“I’ll go,” he heard himself say, and was just as surprised as Paladin when he said it.

And so Bilbo joined Paladin as he walked all the way to that room full of Cithril runes and dwarf books, convinced that everything would be better for his friend now.

But Paladin was wrong.

Before, there was a wordless bond Thorin and Bilbo had always shared in class. There would be little things that no one would notice, except the two and Paladin. Thorin would glance at Bilbo in amusement when he would fail at a spell and Bilbo would roll his eyes. Bilbo would snicker when Thorin would trail off the lesson to a personal tale. In the rare times when Paladin did not understand a concept, Thorin would raise his eyebrows in mock astonishment and everyone would laugh, but no one’s laugh was richer than Bilbo’s. The bond held something stronger than words: it held mutual fondness. It had always annoyed Paladin to death.

Of course, Paladin did not expect the two to have this anymore, but he hadn’t thought of them being so viciously cold with each other either.

Bilbo and Professor Oakenshield had somehow mutually agreed to ignore each other the most they possibly could. When Professor Oakenshield would acknowledge Bilbo’s existence, which was very rare, it would be to ask him a question concerning the lesson, and Bilbo would always lie about how he understood even if it meant he’d have to ask Paladin later.

To anyone else it would have seemed Bilbo did not mind this little agreement between the two, but Paladin knew better. He could see the crushed expression when Thorin was not looking, heard his random melancholy sighs at dinners, noticed his longing glances at the grounds in the mornings, and Paladin hated it. He hated how his friend was suffering so much. He hated it with a passion.

The only people who hated the situation more than Paladin were Fili and Kili.

***

Fili and Kili were always good in twisting the truth out of people, Thorin had always known in amusement. He became much less amused when they used it on him.

***

Two fortnights came and passed by, and there were no noteworthy events but three.

The first was the second Gryffindor match, where Gryffindor was almost crushed by Hufflepuff if they had not caught the Snitch. The team did not let that one go for a week, and even Paladin was getting tired of mentioning it.

The second was that Professor Thranduil was being abnormally happy. Bilbo remembered distinctly to have been reading something about an orc raid in the _Daily Prophet_ that day, but he had to hurry up to Potions if he didn't want to be late again.

The sight that had greeted him was bizarre. Professor Thranduil was humming a light tune, cauldrons around him fuming with all kinds of pleasant smells and colors, as he stirred a particularly small one made of silver that held a purplish liquid. Bilbo slowly raised an eyebrow, wondering for a second if he had accidentally ran into a wall earlier.

“Ah, come in Bilbo!” Professor said, smiling. “Turn in your essay before you sit.”

“Yeah, er, about that,” Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek. “I did not finish it, Professor. I am truly sorry.”

To be fair that essay of the Elixir of Life was insanely difficult, and Thranduil had barked at them to do it in four days. Even Paladin himself could not have done it without straining himself.

“I did not do it either Professor,” chirped in a freckled human girl.

“Neither did I.”

Unsurprisingly about half of the class had not completed it, but what scared the life out of everyone was when Professor Thranduil gave them another week to finish.

“Professor Thranduil,” Lobelia said slowly, lifting the lid of a lonely cauldron in the corner of the classroom. “What’s this potion?” From inside the cauldron, there was a visible pinkish fume swirling upwards.

“Careful, Lobelia,” Professor Thranduil said playfully. “That is Amortentia, the potion of love. Obviously, no one can truly force someone to fall in love with them. It is mere infatuation. Nonetheless it is very powerful and dangerous, so I bid you to leave it alone.” Lobelia scowled at Professor Thranduil, slowly lowering the lid.

The way Professor Thranduil walked, as if he was treading on clouds, made Bilbo think something was amiss about his Potions teacher. Whether it was good or bad, Bilbo still wasn’t sure. His own head was somewhere else too.

The third was the orange.

Orange was all around the castle, unusually so. It was on the back of trees and the tips of the branches. It was cluttered on the earth and caught between the wind. In previous years the grounds would be greeted by autumn with the greens of grass and leaves gradually turning to shades of yellow and red, with orange caught in the middle. But now all students woke up to be slammed by a sea of orange, and it was breathtaking.

Restless winds and booming thunderclaps tapped Bilbo’s dormitory, snapping him awake at once. Everyone else had awoken, leaving him alone. His window panes rattled with violence as he left for breakfast.

He caught Hamfast in Charms, sitting as quietly as possible so Professor Proudfoot would not notice him. Thankfully, Professor Proudfoot was too busy trying to make Bofur not inundate the classroom.

“Why did you not wake me up?” Bilbo hissed. By how the classroom was flowing with silence he knew they were practicing incantations without speaking again.

“I was already late myself,” Hamfast snapped back. “Now let me do this, Professor Proudfoot is already on my back…”

“Mr. Gamgee, can I see you try?” came the Professor’s voice, as if summoned with his name.

Hamfast jumped, turning pale. “Er, yeah.” With a slow swish of his wand, what seemed a savage, small-scale hurricane of water spurted out of his wand. It soaked the brunet elf boy next to Hamfast, who scowled at him with loathing.

“Try not to be so nervous, Gamgee,” Professor Proudfoot tutted. “Now let’s see you, Mister Baggins.”

“Yes, Professor,” Bilbo quickly said, promptly filling his cup with clear water wordlessly. Professor Proudfoot nodded in content, and gave five points to Gryffindor.

Hamfast looked at him with the clearest I-hate-you glare in existence. Bilbo chuckled.

At lunch, Paladin joined them. “Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?” he said to Hamfast.

“I was given extra homework in Charms again. And perfect Bilbo did not.”

“Lighten up, will you? I’ll help you do it.”

“Anyways,” Paladin said loudly. “I was going to go visit Bard, but I rather not be blown by the wind to the Forbidden Forest.”

“Yes,” Bilbo sighed. The day stubbornly did not let go of its windy and rainy nature all day.

“I have Quidditch practice today, so I do not see the difference,” said Paladin. “Do help me pick up on History of Magic later, will you Hamfast?”

“Sure.”

By the way the sky darkened from gray to black, it was just after sunset when Bilbo and Hamfast walked back to the tower. Neither spoke.

It was quite obvious how much quieter Bilbo had turned nowadays, even to Hamfast. But Hamfast, unalike Paladin, was rubbish at talking about feelings. He has and always had been, and Bilbo knew that. So it was better for both if they did not speak.

A sudden burst of laughter came from the corridor next to them, and Fili and Kili walked in front of them. They froze.

“Oh,” Fili said awkwardly. “Hullo Hamfast. Hullo Bilbo.”

Bilbo did not answer, so Hamfast said, “Hullo.” He looked at them suspiciously. They were covered in mud, holding their wands steadily as if they had just managed a conspiracy. “What are you up to?”

Both smiled mischievously. “Nothing,” Kili said. “We just thought the Quidditch team would be bored. Thought we would make their day more interesting.”

“What _exactly_ did you do?” Hamfast’s voice turned sharper.

“Just forget about it,” Fili said airily. “How have you two been? What has been going on in your lives?”

Bilbo smiled weakly. Kili and Hamfast stared daggers at Fili. Fili’s mouth mouthed “oops.”

“We really should be going, we probably have a mob following us,” Kili said in a rush. “Come on Fili—"

“OI!”

The four turned around and gasped, facing not a mob but something much, much worse; Tauriel was storming towards them, her fire-red hair dancing behind her and escaping the elaborate braid she had put in.

“Okay bye,” said Fili, him and Kili making a run for it.

“Move one more step and I will stun you both!” Tauriel yelled. Both dwarves immediately stopped.

Like Fili and Kili, Tauriel was also spattered in mud, except that only in her front, as if she had been caught in a mud explosion. Her eyes were full of fire.

“What,” she said in such a low voice, her chest rising and falling, “were you two thinking?”

The two did not answer.

“Professor Balin will hear about this—“ Tauriel began.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Fili said. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“Our practice had to be postponed! Everyone will be wiping mud from them for weeks!”

“Look—“

“Why would you do this?”

“Can’t you take a joke?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Tauriel had already opened her mouth in seething rage when Kili spoke for the first time.

“We did not mean to sabotage your practice. We’re very sorry.”

Fili scowled at him and Tauriel’s eyes widened. Her expression softened for a second, but it changed to irritation again. “Do not do it again.”

She stomped off, presumably to the showers. The four looked at her go. Fili waited until she was out of sight before he blurted out, “The nerve of that girl! Can’t she take a joke? Berk.”

Kili did not say anything, still staring at where the she-elf had disappeared to.

“We are leaving now,” Hamfast said loudly, taking Bilbo by the wrist and pulling him on towards the tower.

On their way there they ran into some very grumpy Quidditch players indeed, all covered in twigs and mud.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Paladin snapped at them as he also passed by, but Bilbo and Hamfast did not hear him. They were too busy laughing.

***

“I can’t stay, I have to go to Bard’s,” Bilbo said over the pile of books.

The weekend came as a blessing for the hobbits, school work gradually creeping up on them until it was close to drowning them. They had agreed to spend the whole day diving in the pile, or so Paladin and Hamfast had thought.

“But what about Potions?”

“Professor Thranduil has been oddly generous lately. He barely even gives us homework.”

“You don’t have to lie to us, you know.”

“I’m serious!” said Bilbo. “He’s gone bonkers! But that’s a story for another day.”

“Well you know we can’t go,” said Paladin. “Quidditch practices have made me slow on work and Hamfast has that test on Monday.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Bilbo said kindly.

It had been an unsaid agreement that Bilbo was to be escorted everywhere right after the…event, just in case they would stumble across Professor Oakenshield out of class and Bilbo could not handle it. That rule with the days and weeks had faded off. It was clear now that the unspoken rule was over.

“Fine,” Paladin said, turning back to his book. “As you wish.”

Bilbo nodded and walked away. The halls were more vacant than usual, for the weather was unusually pleasant. The sun hung brightly over them, covering the grounds with a warmth that had become unfamiliar to the students. Everyone took advantage of this and wandered outside.

But Bard was not in his hut. The home was firmly shut and Bilbo huffed in annoyance. All of his gardening tools were in the shack, which was locked. The key was inside. He was almost positive that trying to unlock it with magic would not work, but he tried anyways.

“ _Alohomora_ ,” he said clearly, pointing his wand at the door. Nothing happened. Bilbo’s face darkened.

He thought he might as well go back to the library as he entered the school again when he ran into a familiar face. Tauriel was sitting in the corner of the hallway, hidden between the wall and a large knight statue.

“Tauriel?”

Tauriel looked up. “Hullo there. Bilbo, yes?”

“Yea, I’m Bilbo Baggins.”

Tauriel paused, looking at Bilbo up and down. She cautiously said, “Were you there when I yelled at the two dwarf boys last night?”

Bilbo considered lying to save her from the embarrassment. “I was there. They’re named Fili and Kili by the way.”

Tauriel stood up, making Bilbo turn his head up. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m usually not so cynical.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Fili and Kili can be tossers sometimes.”

Tauriel laughed. “They can.”

“But they are good tossers,” Bilbo said quickly. “They’re usually not gits, promise.”

“I am sure they are not,” Tauriel grinned.

“You should be,” a voice that was neither Bilbo nor Tauriel’s answered sheepishly.

Bilbo and Tauriel turned to see a very wary Kili standing next to them. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I was looking for you to apologize about yesterday properly.”

“You already did,” Tauriel pointed out.

“Right,” Kili said, feeling stupid. “At least let me thank you for not reporting us to Professor Balin.”

Tauriel’s narrowed slightly. Kili continued, “If you need help cleaning what we did—”

“No need,” said Tauriel. “It just needed a couple of spells.”

“Ah,” Kili nodded. “Good.”

Kili and Tauriel gazed at each other, and Bilbo found himself feeling oddly uncomfortable. He reckoned that he could walk away without the two noticing.

“I better go,” Tauriel said. “I have to go speak to the Astronomy professor.”

“Astronomy, huh,” Kili grimaced. “Not quite my favorite subject. I always thought stars as a cold light, remote and far away.”

“Astronomy is more than just stars,” Tauriel said. “And it is memory, precious and pure.” Tauriel hesitated, before saying. “I will only talk to the professor briefly. Would you like to go with me?”

Kili brightened before clearing his throat and saying with a ridiculously deep tone, “Yea, yea, of course.” He smirked at her, a smirk that reminded Bilbo awfully of the smirk of another dwarf.

They started to walk away, Kili looking behind his shoulder and mouthing, “Sorry.”

Bilbo smiled, shaking his head. “It’s fine,” he mouthed back, waving him away.

He could hear the two talking merrily as they walked away.

“I have walked there sometimes,” Tauriel was saying. “Beyond the Forbidden Forest and up into the night” and in her voice her excitement of doing such a wild thing was apparent. “I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fill the air…”

Not knowing exactly what had just happened, Bilbo decided he might as well check if Bard was home again before calling it a day.

***

“Have you seen Kili?”

Paladin snapped awake and Hamfast fell off his seat, dropping half a dozen books with him. Fili was looking at them expectantly.

“Can you repeat that question?” Paladin slurred.

“Kili,” Fili said. “I can’t find him anywhere. He’s not in the common room, not in the Forbidden Forest, not at Bard’s…”

“And what would make you think he would be in the library?”

“As you can see, I am desperate.”

Hamfast sat up and yawned before answering, “We have not. Sorry, mate.”

“Well, where on Middle Earth—“

“Oi! Fili!”

Fili turned around. Paladin and Hamfast glanced curiously as Bofur approached them.

“Found your brother,” Bofur said. “He’s sitting by the Great Lake.”

Fili sighed in relief. “I thought he had gone to the Forbidden Forest by himself again.”

“Don’t worry, he’s just with Tauriel.”

Fili froze. “What?”

“You know Tauriel! That brilliant Chaser.” Bofur’s eyebrow creased. “Anything wrong?”

“You said they were at the Great Lake.”

“Well not now anymore, it’s too dark. They’re probably at the common room now. What’s wrong with you?”

“I need to check on him,” Fili growled. “before he does something insane. Like pick a fight with the Giant Squid. Or fall in love.”

“What are you doing?” said Bofur. “Don’t be mental, Fili!” He groaned when Fili ignored him and swept off. “Fili, comeback here!” He ran after him.

Paladin and Hamfast stared. “That sounds like a whole lot of drama,” Hamfast muttered.

“We sure shouldn’t get into that mess.”

They both looked at each other, thinking exactly the same thing. In the blink of an eye, they stuffed their bags with their books and scrolls before sprinting to the common room.

***

They did not need to go that far, Fili and Kili having the biggest row right in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. The two slowed their gait as they were within earshot.

“—dragging me from there like that!” Kili was shouting.

“You said you didn’t like elves! Too thin and too much high cheekbones, you said!”

“I can change my mind, you know? And why are we even discussing this? I don’t even know if I fancy her! And it is not your business anyways,” Kili added.

“You are my small brother. You are my business,” Fili snarled.

“This is getting out of hand,” Hamfast muttered.

“We should do something,” Paladin agreed. Both walked towards the three, who were now speaking in hurried whispers.

“Do you want to end up like uncle? Do you want to suffer like he is now?” Paladin heard Fili say, and Paladin let out a small gasp. Hamfast heard too, raising his eyebrows. The two made sure they stayed out of sight.

“Uncle’s situation is completely different,” Kili hissed. “He fell in love with a student. Tauriel’s an elf. She and Bilbo have nothing in common!”

“What?”

The four froze, including Paladin and Hamfast. Neither of them had spoken.

“What?” the voice repeated again, the figure of a hobbit with honey curls and blue eyes walking towards them. He had been walking behind where Paladin and Hamfast were hiding. His voice was steady, but his hands were noticeably shaking.

“Bilbo,” Paladin breathed, horrified. “What are you doing?”

Bilbo seemed to not have heard him. “What did you just say?” he said to Kili.

Neither Fili and Kili said anything, staring at the three with wide eyes, like if they stared hard enough they would disappear from sight.

“ _What did you just say?”_ Bilbo repeated forcefully, his voice threatening.

“Uncle is going to kill us,” Fili said under his breath.

“Bilbo,” Kili said gently. “You have to understand why we did not tell you—“

Before Kili could finish Bilbo sprinted off in the direction of Thorin’s classroom. “Bilbo, wait!” Fili yelled, but it was no use. Bilbo was long gone.

“What just happened?” Paladin said.

“Since when were you two standing there,” Fili said heatedly.

“Not important right now,” Hamfast said. “And don’t try to turn this on us.”

“Should we go after him?” Kili said anxiously. “Uncle is not even—“

Paladin shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, let him find it out himself. He needs to settle his thoughts.”

***

Bilbo did not know what to feel, what to think. He only knew that he had to reach Thorin and hear the words from him, to be completely sure. Then, and only then, would he let the dam of emotions he felt tapping at the back of his head overwhelm him.

In a rush, he found himself in front of the classroom, leaning on the door and catching his breath. Without knocking, he opened the door to the familiar room, his heart pounding with the possibilities: but the torches were unlit and no one was there.

“My dear Bilbo, what are you doing?”

Bilbo jumped. It was Professor Balin, standing behind him.

“Professor Balin,” said Bilbo. He tried his best not to sound breathy. “I was just looking for Professor Oakenshield. It’s...urgent.”

“Professor Oakenshield? Oh, you will have to wait, my dear boy. He left the school a while ago, said he was traveling North. He has a meeting with our kin but he’ll be back soon.”

“How soon?”

“Tomorrow! He will not want to miss tomorrow!” Balin chuckled dryly.

“What’s tomorrow?”

Professor Balin raised an eyebrow. “The Feast of Starlight, of course.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [LakeLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeLove) for betaing this chapter.

_You wanted me to face my worst fear. Now you know._

The next day was a test day for the fourth years, and Thorin had not finished grading their previous one. In silence, he sat down on his desk, picking up his quill and beginning to scan the paper in front of him. The boggart rattled impatiently in the wardrobe, and the door Bilbo had stormed from remained open. Thorin didn’t bother making it close- he just scratched the paper with gracelessness.

A strange pang had started to bloom in his chest.

It was not as if he hadn’t suspected it; he would have been blind not to. When Thorin would tease Bilbo, the hobbit would not ignore it or dismiss it with a smile. He’d immediately blush or automatically tease back. If Thorin caught Bilbo gazing at him, the hobbit would smile instead of turning away. So why then, had he not seen this coming?

Thorin growled, pressing the tip of the quill a little too strongly on the parchment. It had _not_ been because of the venomous green poison that filled his insides when he saw Bilbo and Bard. It had _nothing_ to do with the pinching thoughts of rejection that hadn’t left him alone for days before he thought it best to end his tutorials with Mister Baggins. The reasons sounded so preposterous now.

No matter the reason, if he accepted it or not, his blindness made him push the hobbit into a corner, to cower and plead, an experience no one should ever endure. _You wanted me to face my worst fear. Now you know._

A twitch made the quill slash ink over a fourth year’s paper, and Thorin snapped. Trembling fingers threw the quill aside and summoned his Quick-Quotes Quill to take his place. He stood up and strode aimlessly around the empty room.

In all his life, Thorin has been used to self-hatred after Erebor’s fall. He let down his people when he found no way to get their home back, when Azog took his grandfather’s life, when his father left him. It had never bothered him when harshness occurred to him because of his foolishness. It was a natural feeling to him. But he’d never get used to _others_ suffering for his mistakes. It felt like swallowing a bag of needles every time, or to slowly being cooked in a fire. And now it feels worste.

A part of Thorin’s mind was tugging him around, urging him to dash through the halls and catch Bilbo. To tell him that he too loved him, that he would do anything for him and that he was indeed ridiculous for not telling him this earlier. He wanted to see Bilbo’s shock be taken over by gleaming happiness, and relief flow over Thorin himself. He could only think of what it would feel like: the warmth of acceptance, and the adrenaline of closing the gap between the two.

And then there was the blow of reality, the rush of the cold truth that overpowered him and rooted his feet inside the class. It would be easier for Bilbo to forget if he did not know, Thorin knew that. Student and teacher, teacher and student. It could not turn to anything else, anything improper. He would not permit that.

And besides, it was too early for the two to truly feel smitten with each other. Bilbo was young and probably spoke without thinking and Thorin could not possibly feel…

A large drop splattered over the scroll with a pronounced _drip_ , snapping him back to reality. The Quick Quotes Quill had stopped and was hovering in midair, looking at him, annoyed. It had just written all over a test the same words over and over again: _I love you too, I love you too, I love you too._

He snatched the scroll and swiped off the writing in it instantly, in his recklessness erasing the test’s answers as well, leaving the scroll painfully blank.

***

Thorin had been assigned to chaperone the Festival of Starlight completely without his consent. Professor Balin was organizing this year, and thought it’d be fun to have good old Thorin helping around. Balin merrily told him this in the middle of dinner in the Great Hall.

“What?” Thorin choked a little while in the middle of eating a slice of treacle tart.

“The festival, my boy! I assigned you to help me. Think of how fun it will be!”

Thorin could not help but to think sourly how Balin did not grasp the concept of fun anymore.

“The Festival of Starlight is an elvish tradition only,” Thorin grunted.

“Ah yes, but not at Hogwarts,” Balin beamed. “We all celebrate! It is such a great time for all houses to interact with each other!”

“I doubt it was made to appease the houses,” Thorin sneered.

Balin frowned a little. “Well no, the tradition began centuries ago to get the elfs, dwarfs, and human to get along but,” Balin added brightly, “That is not the case anymore.”

“I am sure. Why are you organizing it this year?”

“Professor Galadriel has been in charge of the festival for twelve years straight,” Professor Balin said through his teeth. “She thinks she can take over just because she is an elf, but I’ll show her this year.”

“I can see now how the festival helped dwarfs and elfs get along,” Thorin grinned.

“Oh Professor Galadriel knows of our little rivalry.” Professor Balin turned to face Professor Galadriel and chirped, “Professor Galadriel?”

“Mm?” the elf, who had been talking to Professor Gandalf, looked at Professor Balin.

“I thought it would only be fair to inform you that the festival will be much better than that horrid event you did last fall,” Balin said pleasantly.

Professor Galadriel burst out laughing, not in a mocking way, but in a fond, gleeful way. “You wish, Professor Balin. Would that be all?”

“Yes, yes it would.”

She grinned before returning to her conversation.

“You see?” Professor Balin said to Thorin.

“I do,” Thorin nodded, somewhat amused at what had just occurred.

“So will you help me then?” Professor Balin said hopefully.

“I believe I have no other choice,” Professor Oakenshield sighed dramatically. Professor Balin beamed at him. Thorin was back to eating his treacle tart when he could not help noticing that Professor Balin was still looking at him with a small smile.

“What?” Professor Oakenshield said.

“Nothing, m’boy,” Balin shook his head. “It’s just that you’ve grown up so much too fast for your age, that’s all.”

Ah, that conversation. “I am not so young, Balin.”

“Oh but you are, Thorin! I remember you walking around in pride when you had grown a full beard as if it was just yesterday. And your father at your age was not close as accomplished and responsible as you are. He was too busy swooning for your mother. And let’s face it,” Balin smiled widely. “Fili and Kili will not mature any day soon.”

Thorin chuckled, taking another bite of treacle tart. “It is not as if I had a choice but to mature, Balin. My father and I were raised in different circumstances, as well as my nephews.”

“Yes,” Balin said, and his voice sounded sad. “Yes, that is true, isn’t it?”

Through eating Thorin could not help but to hear the hint of demureness in his voice. He directed his glance at the ancient professor. “Everything all right, Balin?”

“Yes, yes,” Balin sniffed. “Just got lost in the past, that’s all. Don’t mind me.”

But Thorin was not deceived. He placed his hand on Balin’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately. “There is no need to pity me, Balin. I only did what I had to do.”

Balin gave him a watery smile. “I could never have asked for a better king,” he said quietly enough so the two could only hear.

Thorin grinned grimly. He begged to differ. Instead he said, “When shall we start arranging the festival?”

Professor Balin’s face brightened immediately. “Ah yes, we’ll start in a week or two. We have to see what food we’ll have exactly. And the music! We’ll obviously get a diversified mix, but it would not hurt to have a little more dwarfish. I think I have a couple of students who play…”

Thorin only listened half-heartedly, smirking at the enthusiasm of his old friend.

***

_You shouldn’t be here._

Professor Balin had left, and Bilbo was left in the halls alone. His curls covered his brows as he looked down and breathed. He opened and closed his fists just to make sure that they were still there, under the numb and dizzying feeling that would not leave him.

The floor was scratched, his mind feebly said, trying to make him avoid…whatever this was. He felt so odd, so out of place, as if his body was not his to react, not to this.

He could have heard wrong. He could have misinterpreted what Fili and Kili were saying _. “Do you want to end up like uncle?”_ Fili had said. “ _Do you want to suffer like he is now?”_

But they had said his name, confirmed Thorin was in love with a student. Who else could it be? The thought felt surreal, impossible to exist alongside the same world where Bilbo felt the same.

Bilbo stood there for what felt like hours, immobile and breathing shallowly. He should do something, he realized a while later, walk away or go to his dormitory or throw himself to the Whomping Willow. Something that made him feel like this was not a dream.

Thorin’s classroom was still open, invitingly warmer than the dark, empty halls. There was no one around, Bilbo could not help but notice. Without another thought, he stepped inside.

 _You shouldn’t be here,_ a voice inside his head said nervously, but softly enough that Bilbo ignored it. He lit all the torches instantly, and looked around the familiar room.

The teacher’s desk had the aura of having been swept in a rush. Stacks of scrolls lay in disarray and a couple of quills still had their tips dark with dry ink. A drawer was not bothered to be closed again, and Bilbo curiously leaned closer. _Don’t,_ the voice urged again, yet so quietly Bilbo did not even hear it.

It was a drawer full of maps. Beautifully decorated maps all over Middle-Earth. Iron Hills, Weather Hills, Rivendell, Isengard, The Blue Mountains, Bree. Bilbo blinked at the sight of a familiar map. The Shire.

And not just any map, but Bilbo’s own. He took the map from the drawer and through his fingers, feeling the thin, wrinkled paper with amity, running his fingertips through the fields and villages he so missed. There was a dark ink stain next to Bridgefield, so small it could only be found when it was being looked for, the ink stain Bilbo had accidentally done when a toddler in Bag End.

“What are you doing here?” Bilbo muttered to the map, frowning. He placed the map over the desk and inspected the Shire under him, sitting down on Thorin’s chair. “How did you get here?”

He did not even remember bringing the map to Hogwarts. He knew the Shire as if it was the back of his hand since he was a child, and Bilbo only had kept the map for the sentimental value. Perhaps that’s why he did not notice it being lost.

Bilbo yawned, sleepiness making him slouch on the chair. He remembered vaguely the first day of school, his nervousness on facing that crush of his. Thorin’s amused smile, him handing back the bag he had thought he had lost at the end of class.

Bilbo did not remember wrapping his head around his arms, nor lying his head on the desk. He fell into a deep sleep before he could make any other realizations, giving into forgetting, at least for a little while.

***

It did not take long for Thorin to regret agreeing to help Balin in the feast. He had no good taste in food, did not see the difference between having waiters or just letting the students summon their dishes, and what in the world is the color _merlo?_

“But what if hobbits do not like it?” Balin frowned, looking at the soup.

Thorin groaned. “Hobbits will eat _anything,_ Balin,” Thorin snapped, losing his patience after the twentieth diminutive issue Balin had fussed over.

“No need to yell at me,” Balin said crossly, already pacing around the Great Hall. “Hmm. What if there is not enough space for a dance floor. Should we get smaller tables?”

And this was the least of his worries.

It was to be expected that Mister Baggins would not attend class the next day after the incident, or the day after that. But when he was absent for four days, the unease that had accusingly itched in his mind became too much to bear.

“Mister Took,” Thorin called out at the end of class, seeing the brunet hobbit jump and jerk his head to look at him in surprise.

“Yes, Professor Oakenshield,” Paladin had said, valiantly trying to hide the anxiety from his voice.

Thorin stood up and beckoned Paladin to get closer. The hobbit warily did.

He knew for a fact that Mister Took must have known what happened, for the student had turned smoothly cold towards the professor these last few days. He was not cold in the obvious, glaring way, but in a quiet and reserved manner. Thorin did not hesitate then when he asked, “How is Bilbo?”

Paladin raised his eyebrows. “Bilbo is fine,” Paladin replied. “And it would be better if you call him Mister Baggins, if you don’t mind, professor.”

Thorin automatically straightened, pressing his lips into an unhappy line. “How long do you think until he can join us again, do you believe?”

Paladin’s face creased into concern. “I don’t know,” he said genuinely. “Maybe never.”

Suddenly Thorin felt as if he could not breathe.

“He says that he cannot bear to come again, and with good reason of course but,” Paladin’s voice held a hesitation to it, avoiding to look at Thorin’s eyes. “Let’s just say he could be handling it better.”

“Paladin,” Thorin said, his calm nature breaking just slightly, and Paladin was stunned. “Talk to him. You know not coming will not do him any good—“

“What can I do, professor?” Paladin said frustratingly. “He is completely devastated, and coming here will not—” he stopped. “I just said that he was devastated out loud, didn’t I?”

“Try,” Thorin said sharply. “I will not hurt his grade for his recent absences, or the boggart incident. Just make him return. He cannot give up on his class for such nonsense.”

Paladin slowly gave Thorin a smile with teeth of daggers. “You might see Bilbo’s feelings as nonsense…”

“That is not what I meant at all,” Thorin said firmly, scowling.

“…I know, professor,” Paladin sighed. “I’ll talk to him, but I cannot promise more than that, yeah?”

Thorin had nodded. He was more than satisfied with the promise, and when Bilbo had showed up next day. He was even all right with Bilbo ignoring him, and he reciprocated. Just as well, it was better than not seeing him there at all.

***

“Bilbo. Bilbo wake up. _Bilbo.”_

Bilbo’s heavy eyelids slowly rose to look up at the two figures around him. He blinked rapidly to have his eyes adjust to the light coming from a wand, focusing on Fili and Kili looking down at him. All the torch flames had died.

He frowned at them, wondering what where they doing in his dormitory before realizing in horror where he was. He sat up so fast his head spun. “Er,” Bilbo managed to say smartly. “Hey.”

Fili and Kill grinned widely. “Hey. Want to follow us to the tower?”

Bilbo frowned, a bubbling uneasiness beginning in his gut.

“I thought you maybe wanted to ask us some questions,” Fili continued, his smile now warm.

Bilbo yawned, muffling it with the back of his hand. He slowly nodded, half asleep and half nervous as he was led outside the class and towards the tower by the two brothers.

He forgot the Shire map on the desk.

***

Thorin had never been summoned to the headmaster’s office before.

It was his first year after all, and he was offered the job by Gandalf himself so there was no need for an interview in the room. Before today he had no idea where it even was at.

He slowly walked around the corridor, regarding every knight and statue he passed. He finally found the large gargoyle sitting by pompously, and when Thorin lingered on the spot the gargoyle lifted an eyebrow.

“Password?”

“Cauldron Cake,” Thorin replied, wrinkling his nose slightly at the word. The gargoyle immediately moved, revealing a spiral staircase.

The room was oddly what Thorin expected. It reflected its owner perfectly: chaotic and whimsical. Dusty books, telescopes, bubbling flutes, fireworks. The sorting hat was even looking at him blankly from a table.

“Professor Oakenshield,” Gandalf called from his desk, positively beaming. “Do come in.”

Thorin laughed. “There’s no need for formalities, Gandalf. I believe we have surpassed that.”

“Yes, we have, haven’t we?” Gandalf chuckled, yet he held himself stiffly, and his grin seemed a little forced.

Thorin frowned. “Is everything all right?”

Gandalf’s grin shrunk to a formal smile. “Do sit down, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin did, brows furrowing. His voice became taut. “What is it?”

“I am sure you have heard of the orc raids,” said Gandalf.

A muscle in Thorin’s jaw twitched.

“They have been become more frequent than the Daily Prophet has shown.” Gandalf continued. “And, unfortunately, there has been one very close to the Blue Mountains last night.”

Thorin suddenly stood up, not even noticing his chair falling back. All the air in his lungs felt as if they had been sucked out. “I need to go. Immediately.”

“No one was harmed,” Gandalf said softly. “But I agree with you. You should go check with your people. They will need leadership for these dark days”

“What is happening Gandalf?” Thorin flattened his palms on Gandalf’s tests and leaned forward. “Why have these orc raids been happening?”

Gandalf’s smile was completely gone, replaced with a solemnly serious expression. “That story is for another day, I’m afraid.”

“Uncle!” a voice squeaked. Thorin turned around to see Fili, Kili and Bofur entering the room. Fili spoke, “Uncle, what is happening?”

“I thought you might want to talk to them before you left,” said Gandalf, smirking.

“We heard of the orc raids!” Kili said in a hoarse voice. “Is everyone all right?”

“I am not entirely sure,” Thorin replied, “But I am to find out.”

“You can Apparate to the Blue Mountains. I lifted the anti-Apparating enchantment in this room for now,” said Gandalf.

“Can we go?” Fili, Kili and Bofur eagerly said in unison.

“You cannot,” Thorin said sharply. “It is too dangerous.”

“We can’t just wait here,” Kili said in outrage.

Bofur sighed. “Can you at least see if my brother and cousin are in good health?” he pleaded.

Thorin’s expression softened. He faced Bofur. “Of course I will, little one.”

“I am not that little,” Bofur mumbled, yet grinned at the endearment.

“And I will talk to Dis as well,” Thorin said to his nephews.

“Great!” Fili said. “Just scratch out the parts where we got too much into trouble, will you?”

“And don’t forget to check on Dwalin,” came a voice from the door. Everyone turned to see Balin entering the room.

“How could I not?” Thorin said, smiling at Balin.

“You may leave now,” Gandalf said. “Unless you need to bring some possessions with you?”

“There is no need. I rather leave immediately.”

Fili and Kili half tackled Thorin as they hugged him out of breath.

“I will be here by tomorrow,” Thorin said soothingly. “If everything goes well.”

“Be careful, uncle,” Kili said, his voice muffled by Thorin’s coat.

“I will.”

The second Fili and Kili let go, with a loud CRACK, Thorin was gone.

***

The common room was not empty, like Bilbo expected it to be. At an empty round table Hamfast and Paladin were talking in hushed, slow tones. The two stopped when they saw the three entering.

“What are you two doing awake?” said Bilbo.

“Waiting for you to come back,” Hamfast said matter-of factly.

“Hamfast dozed off twice.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“We know that,” Paladin rolled his eyes. “It is not as if we can sleep soundly with you wandering around the school. Did the caretaker see you?”

“No,” Bilbo said.

“Pretty hard to find him when he was asleep in a classroom,” Fili chirped up.

“Ah,” Hamfast said, nodding.

“Tauriel wanted to stay too, but we told her she better sleep about half an hour ago, I reckon.”

Bilbo could feel his blood draining from his face. “Y-you told her?”

“No, no, no,” Kili shook his head wildly. “She was concerned, that’s all.”

“You wanted to tell her,” Fili said accusingly.

“But I didn’t,” Kili shot back.

“It’s fine,” Bilbo interrupted. “I trust her. It’s that, well, I rather this not be…common knowledge.”

“Yea, about that,” Fili said. “We might have had to tell Bofur and Ori.”

“What?” Bilbo squeaked.

“They wouldn’t let us go look for you! We tried to work ourselves around telling them, but they wouldn’t budge so,” Kili looked at Bilbo guiltily.

Bilbo sank down into the nearest sofa and buried his head in his palms.

“It is not as if they are going to tell anyone, Bilbo,” Fili said.

“This may be the worst day of my life,” came Bilbo’s voice from behind his hands. He looked up. “Why did Thorin leave?”

Fili and Kili looked at each other, then back at Bilbo passively. “There was an orc raid near the Blue Mountains.”

Paladin gasped and Hamfast grimaced. Bilbo gulped, “Is everyone all right?”

“Uncle just sent us an owl. Everyone’s fine,” Fili said. “But he has to stay there for a while.”

“Why? What would he do there?”

Fili thought for a while, as if weighing his words. “Let’s just say uncle has a…prominent position in our community,” he said. “His voice is heard.”

***

Ered Luin was exactly as Thorin had remembered it. The carts dragged along the road, the grocers’ booming voice carrying around the streets, and the everyday passerby walking along. The smell of pastries and meats filled Thorin as he passed the markets. The families quarreled on the streets and laborers hurried to their work. He grinned. He missed his home.

Thorin could have Apparated into the Great Council but it would be rather impolite. When he entered, stunned and glad faces followed everywhere he went.

Someone shoved into him roughly as he passed by, and Thorin could help but scowl at the dwarf and open his mouth furiously. His derogatory remark died in his throat as he looked at that familiar face.

“Thorin,” Dwalin boomed, already holding him in a tight embrace. He was both as intimidating and sentimental as Thorin remembered.

Thorin choked, “Dwalin, if you don’t mind…” Dwalin let him go, laughing richly at Thorin coughing.

“You should have sent a raven. Or an owl,” Dwalin said, crossing his arms. “We could have arranged a feast for you.”

“I came as soon as I heard,” Thorin said, his voice turning serious.

Dwalin nodded. “Good. You are just in time. We are to hold a meeting in the span of an hour. Let me inform of what has happened.”

“Let’s start with injuries.”

Dwalin shook his head. “None. At least, not in here. The orcs terrorized villages near the gulf. We aided as soon as we got word. “

“Where is my sister?”

“She led a small expedition to investigate the terms further. She left last night.”

Thorin let out a shaky breath through his nose. “All right,” he said in a strained voice. “Let’s get this over with.”

***

“And how are you doing, Bilbo,” Paladin said gently.

“Fine,” Bilbo said automatically, before realizing that was a lie. “I could be better,” he admitted, managing to give a smile that fooled no one. “I must admit that it does feel a bit…odd talking about this with Thorin’s nephews,” Bilbo admitted, the awkward situation seeping in as he glanced again at the two brothers patiently waiting for him to speak.

“Oh don’t mind us,” Fili said airily. “We are just here to see you are fine, or have anything you want to ask.”

“Well, in that case…” Bilbo leaned forward, facing the two somewhat shyly, “Why have you two been so kind concerning…whatever you want to call this situation.” His voice became involuntarily small at the question.

Fili and Kili looked at each other in surprise, as if the thought had never even flickered in their minds. Both shifted in their seats to sit straighter as the two answered in unison, “You’re our friend, Bilbo.”

A warm sensation trickled into Bilbo’s chest. He chuckled dryly and looked down. In a way he already knew, they were obviously friends. But this was more than that, it was the unsaid that moved him. The bond of “ _I’ll be there for you_ ” that does not come with every acquaintance. “Really?”

“Of course,” Kili said steadily, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. “The three of you, you’re not that bad for being hobbits.”

Hamfast laughed at that. Paladin tried to scowl and failed miserably.

“Besides we would be arseholes if we left you alone when it was us that did this,” Kili said, cheeks tinting red.

The crackling common room fire was slowly extinguishing, getting to a state where it flickered ominous lights on their faces.

“Just one more question, and then I will stop,” Bilbo said quietly. “How,,, how can you be so sure that is what Thorin thinks? How do you know?”

“He kind of sort of…told us,” Fili mumbled.

“How? When?” Bilbo pressed on. He knew there was a note of urgency in his voice, but he needed to _be sure._

Fili and Kili grinned emptily. The remaining firelight flickered for one last time and then went out, shrouding the common room in darkness.

***

Fili and Kili were always good in twisting the truth out of people, Thorin had always known in amusement. He became much less amused when they used it on him.

A knock on the door made Thorin look up curiously. He placed down his quill. It was after school hours and he was not expecting anyone. “Come in.”

The door opened to reveal the two brothers. “Hullo uncle,” Fili said cheerfully. “Thought we’d check on you.”

“And why would you do that?” Thorin said, a smile tugging at his lips already.

“No particular reason,” Kili said. “You have just looked so under the weather rarely.”

“Hm,” Thorin replied, getting back to his revising. “I can assure you I do not have to be checked on.”

“Whatever you say, uncle,” Kili chirped. The two looked around the class, rummaging around his books by his desk.

“There is nothing there you would enjoy,” Thorin said.

“We have good tastes in books, uncle,” Fili said defensively. “Balin would have killed us otherwise.”

Thorin merely scoffed. The two continued to scan the surroundings, as if they had never stepped inside such a marvelous room before. They remained in silence for a while.

“I haven’t seen this book before,” Fili said.

“Hm?” Thorin said, casually glancing up. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of Fili picking a book with a red-and-gold leather cover, ancient in appearance.

“ _Stories of the Shire and Bree_ ,” Fili said out loud. “Not your usual read. Is this new?”

Thorin did not answer, clenching his fists over the desk as Kili took the book and opened it to the first page.

“ _This will probably satisfy you,”_ Kili said. “ _Sincerely, Bilbo_.”

“Definitely not new then,” Fili snipped in awe. “This must be almost a century old.”

“Bilbo can be so thoughtful sometimes,” Kili said happily. “How are the tutorials going? He has been looking a little down lately.”

Narrowing his eyes, Thorin stood up. “I do not provide him with private tutorials anymore,” he said tightly. “You two should get going.”

“Why?” Fili said. “You stopped teaching him, I mean.”

“He had proved his academic improvement, as you well know.”

“But I thought that he needed help again,” Fili said innocently.

Thorin glared at them, his eyes sparkling dangerously. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said, “I cannot help Mister Baggins anymore. I have issues of my own.”

“I thought you cared more than that,” Kili said, not accusingly but harshly enough to get Fili to elbow him in the ribs.

“Why would I?” Thorin said, and the words tasted wrong in his mouth.

“He cares for you,” Kili said, voice getting quieter and gentler as Thorin’s turned louder and angrier.

“What makes you think that?”

In response, Kili raised the book. Thorin blinked, finding himself with no words to retaliate with. He stood up and said roughly. “What is it that you want?”

“To help you, believe it or not,” Fili said. “And Bilbo too. This is getting out of hand.”

Thorin growled, “You two. You two are just children…”

“Enough,” Kili said, a hint of being irritated peeking in his voice. “Can’t you just tell him? Can’t you just accept—?”

“And then what?” Thorin hissed. “Then what? What exactly would I do after.”

Fili and Kili said nothing.

“What you two forgot,” Thorin breathed, “was that I am a teacher, and he is a student. It is not that simple.”

“It never is,” Fili said.

Thorin slowly grinned, and it made Fili and Kili flinch. “You are dismissed,” Thorin said, his voice calm. And Fili and Kili knew he did not just mean being dismissed out of the classroom.

***

The meeting had been as tedious as Thorin had expected. Everyone had something to say and felt the need to say it before anyone else, or not speak at all. It was not unlike his monthly teacher meetings, so with sweat and cunning he brought the council into an agreement on security regulation and the intensity of night watch.

He can’t say that he wasn’t disappointed that he was not to see his sister Dis. He missed her as much as he missed Ered Luin itself. He never would have thought that he would miss this place so much. When he thought of the Blue Mountains, he thought of that which he could not have, his rightful home. But now, as he walked to the place he has slept soundly for years, he realized he could have more than one home. Three to be exact: Erebor, the Blue Mountains…and Hogwarts.

Thorin settled in his room in silence, the familiarity of the four walls crashing him into a wave of nostalgia. He was about to doze off into a light sleep when he heard the whoosh of an owl flying into his room swiftly. He sat up and watched as the owl threw the letter into his side and, seeing there was no food or water around, flew back into the night again.

Frowning, he opened the letter. The words were that of chicken scratch and were written hastily:

_Bilbo knows. He’s waiting for you to discuss at the feast._

_We are sorry. We would have rather let it be told to him by you._

_F & K_

Reading and rereading the letter Thorin made sure he did not misinterpreted the writing. His heart raced at the words. There was so little information, yet so much to absorb. So many questions that never to be answered. The first being: _What the bloody hell were you two thinking?_

Before he could process any of it another owl entered, a bigger and more unflustered barn owl. It dropped the letter next to him, silently stood on the bed and ruffled its feathers, then flew back again to the night. This had the distinctive seal of Hogwarts. It read:

_Professor Oakenshield,_

_Due to the issues you have to attend to, Professor Balin and I decided to give you the choice to relief you from your responsibilities in supervising the upcoming Feast of Starlight. You are not required to return soon and a substitute teacher has been assigned to take care of your class. You can now attend to your affairs without worries._

_Yours truly,_

_Gandalf the Grey_

_***_

Despite it being the day of the awaited Feast of Festival, the orc raids were everything people could talk about at lunch.

Even if one was not subscribed to the Daily Prophet, the word spread like wildfire about the chaos that had happened not only by the Gulf of Lhund, but Harlond, the Weather Hills and by Lake Evendim. Everyone had some sort of theory of the spontaneous raids, while some claimed they weren’t spontaneous at all. A few were even shaken by how close the raids were to their own homes.

“I’m telling you,” a third year yelled from the side of the Ravenclaw table. “The orcs must have made an alliance.”

“Don’t be so thick, with who could they ever ally with?”

“Goblins,” suggested a first year girl.

“This has gone a little out of hand,” Paladin muttered to his scrambled eggs.

“Tell me about it,” said Hamfast. “Reminds me of that time we went to the Golden Finch and they were all arguing about the weather. Remember that, Bilbo?”

“Hm?” Bilbo said.

Hamfast rolled his eyes. “Nothing.”

“I dunno if it should bother us that we don’t have dates for tonight,” Paladin wondered out loud.

“We do have dates,” Hamfast raised an eyebrow. “We are our dates.”

“There are three of us, Hamfast,” Paladin scoffed.

“So what? We can share Bilbo. Right, Bilbo?”

“Hm?” Bilbo said, looking at them. “I’m sorry, what?”

Hamfast scowled, exasperated. Paladin replied slowly, “The feast.”

“Ah,” Bilbo nodded. A shadow has passed around his face. “…I’m not going.”

“What?” Paladin gasped. “Why? We already have out dress robes!”

“Why do you think, Paladin?” Bilbo’s voice sounded muffled. “Why do you think?”

“Bilbo, don’t,” Paladin moaned.

“What would you like me to say then?” Bilbo snapped loudly. “Would you like me to lie? That this has nothing to do with the fact that he definitely does not want to see me?”

Hamfast slammed his fist on his table. Both fell silent. “Can you two settle down? People are staring,” Hamfast furiously whispered. Sure enough, they were not the only ones who had quieted down around them. When those surrounding them ceased to look, Paladin spoke.

“I was going to tell you later…but I guess I’ll tell you now,” Paladin breathed through his nose. “Thorin is not coming.”

Bilbo creased his eyebrows. “What?”

“He’s not coming. Fili told me he’s staying in the Blue Mountains for about a week more.”

“Oh,” Bilbo blinked. “Oh. Okay then.”

Paladin grinned. “So you’re still going then?”

“I…I don’t see why not.”

“Great!” Paladin snipped.

Bilbo nodded. “I should go find my dress robe then,” he quietly stood up. Hamfast waited until Bilbo had left the Great Hall, lips pressed in a tight line, until he leaned closer to Paladin.

“What are you doing?” Hamfast hissed. “Fili told you Thorin was arriving _today_.”

Paladin sighed. “Yes, I know.” Hamfast gaped at him with disbelief. “Let’s get ready then, shall we? This will be a hell of a night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a small hiatus. I know, I know, I hate it too, but there are things to be done in the fall of a senior. Don't you fret, Bilbo and Thorin will reunite soon enough. You just wait.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://tinkertortillion.tumblr.com/) is here, if you were curious (but I'll probably stop using it too for a while) and I'll announce in advance when I'll post the next chapter. All I can assure is that it will be before winter ends.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot can happen in a festival, apparently.

“We are late,” Paladin hissed in disdain, snatching a cream colored drape from Hamfast’s pudgy and forcing him to look up from the mirror. “And what are you _wearing?_ You look like an orange peacock! _”_ Paladin stared; Hamfast was sporting a radiantly tangerine dress robe, ruffled up in layers and layers of vests, blue and yellow. His unruly chestnut hair had been raked behind his ears to the nape of his neck with some oily hair product that had a strong, unpleasant scent. “And is this a cravat?” 

“To what? The feast does not start in almost an hour, and Bilbo is not here yet,” Hamfast replied, ignoring his earlier remark. He snatched his cravat back and continued to inspect at himself in his reflection. 

Paladin, who was already in his formal olive green dress robe, rolled his eyes in frustration. “You know we have to find those two before Bilb—oh, hullo Bilbo!” 

Bilbo had quietly entered the room, appearing slightly flushed. His eyes wandered distantly before the room before he smiled. “Hullo,” Bilbo responded, creasing his eyebrows at the sight before him. “Everything all right?” 

“Yes, yes, fine,” Paladin said airily. “We were just waiting—blimey, where did you change?” 

“Huh?” Bilbo said, looking down at himself as if he had just noticed his attire: He was wearing an elegant jet black dress robe under a resplendent, fire yellow vest, finely woven in a pattern of faded flowers. He placed his thumbs under his vest pocket and said, “Oh, I changed in Otho’s. There was less commotion in there than on this side of the dormitories.” 

“Well,” Paladin said brightly, clapping his hands together. He snatched both hobbits by the collar and pulled them outside the room. “Time to go now, then. It’s getting late, don’t you say?” 

“Not—ack—really, no,” Bilbo said in a strangled voice. “Paladin you are choking me—“ 

“Woops, sorry there mate…” 

“Why are you so jumpy? The feast is not on until—“ 

“I know, I know,” Paladin cut him off impatiently. “And I’m not jumpy!” 

“He just wants to get a good seat next to the treats,” Hamfast offered, grinning. “Remember last year, when he hogged all those mince pies from that fourth year?” 

“It was only a couple,” Paladin snarled over their laughs. “And he would not stop elbowing me.” 

“As you say,” Hamfast cooed, his voice lost in the wave of excited chatter as they got closer towards the common room. The golden light poured through the windows at the anxious girls fiddling with their earrings, tormenting first years, and haughty elves. 

“Bilbo!” Bofur roared, followed by Fili, Kili, and a moody Ori. “Ready for tonight?” 

“Why wouldn’t I,” Bilbo said in what he meant to be a teasing tone, yet Bofur’s glee was wiped from his face. 

“N’thing,” Bofur shrugged unconvincingly. 

“It is time for us to get going, don’t you think Fili?” 

Fili, who was wearing a dimly red coat and a grimace, said, “Nope.” 

“No?” Paladin echoed, flabbergasted. 

“We, er, may be a little late.” 

‘Late,” Paladin said, appalled. “But—“ 

“Well, look at the time. We must get going,” Hamfast chirped. “But Paladin, I think I left my wand in the dormitory. Want to get it with me?” 

“No—OW—I mean yes, yes,” Paladin gasped, rubbing his bruised arm and staring menacingly at Hamfast. Bilbo eyed them with one eyebrow deliberately rising. “Bilbo…why don’t you go with Bofur and Ori to find us some tables?” 

“All right,” Bilbo slowly said. 

“Oh and we have to do something too,” Fili said pointedly, catching the cue. Kili, completely befuddled, did not. 

“Fili, I should really go find Tauriel…” 

“Later,” Fili muttered, dragging a reluctant Kili to the hobbits’ room. Kili hissed out a small gasp, not pleased in the way Fili was digging his fingernails on his forearm. 

“What is it?” Kili barked, jerking his hand from his brother’s grasp as he glanced at the dormitory. “What are we doing here? Fili, I really need to go get Tauriel, she’ll be furious.” 

“Sorry, Kili,” Paladin said loudly enough to block Fili’s “I could not care less” comment. “But you said this would be done before the feast.” 

“Yea, what happened?” Hamfast said urgently. 

“Look,” Kili said, clearly impatient. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush, so I’ll be straightforward.” 

“Kili,” Fili sighed warningly, glaring at his brother. 

“Uncle might not come.” 

Hamfast blinked. “And _why_ is that?” he said angrily. 

“A lot has been happening, if you have not noticed,” Kili snapped. “And uncle has more pressing things to do at the moment. He may not come tonight, if anymore.” 

Hamfast threw his hands up in the air as Paladin stepped forward, calmly saying, “What is happening?” 

“We are not even sure anymore, all right?” Kili said in despair. “Uncle just sent us a letter, something about there being another raid, and let’s not forget of Dwalin slapping the hell out of him for even thinking about fooling around with a student even though—” 

“Who’s Dwalin?” Hamfast piped up, looking up. 

“Never mind,” Fili grumbled. “Kili sent him another owl. We’ll keep an eye out for him, but for now…just presume he’ll not show up tonight, yeah?” 

Paladin puffed out a small breath, looking into the distance heatedly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “This is proving to be a pain.” 

“You don’t say,” Kili said grimly. “Well, see you. If I don’t go to Tauriel now she’ll skin me, so if you please…” 

“Don’t mind him, he has been gnawing his fingernails off all day,” said Fili in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Tauriel already has him on her heels.” 

“I am still on the room, you know? And that’s rubbish,” Kili called out as he moved out from the dormitory. 

“So he’s not coming then,” Paladin breathed. “That’s it?” 

“I said he _might_ not come,” Fili corrected. “There is still a small chance, but if he can’t, there’s not much I can do, can I?” 

Hamfast let out an exasperated sound through his hands. “I guess, yeah,” Paladin eventually mumbled. “Sorry to be such a sore spot, I was just keen to get this over with.” 

“You and I, mate,” Fili said with a rueful smile. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, yet thought of it. 

When the three were heading for the festival, they found a very annoyed Bilbo waiting for them at the common room. Fili coughed, “See you at the feast, then.” 

“Right, yeah, bye” Paladin said. “Bilbo I told you to go on ahead—“ 

“What exactly are you two planning?” Bilbo said, crossing his arms. “What is happening, Paladin?” 

“We can honestly tell you that nothing will happen, Bilbo,” Hamfast said with a grim tone. “Now we _are_ late. Shall we?” 

Bilbo’s lips thinned into a straight line, nevertheless following Hamfast through the portrait. 

*** 

Every year, the Feast of Starlight presented itself someday during the fall, the Astronomy teacher making sure the correct date when the stars would align in a certain position that let them shine the brightest. It was met with enthusiasm and eagerness, elfs dancing in the hall outside the Great Hall already as the three hobbits passed by, caught entranced at the swift, organic motions of their moves. The Great Hall’s stiff door let dancing lights of blue, pink, and yellow escape the room every time a giggling student would enter the room until Balin impatiently enchanted the door to remain opened wide. 

“Hullo, Professor Balin,” Bilbo said loudly to catch the old dwarf’s attention. 

“Bilbo!” Balin turned around gleefully, eyeing an approaching couple warily. “My dear boy, I hope you all have a good night—careful with the ornaments!” He glared crossly at the passing couple. 

“We will,” Bilbo said as he passed, and froze. 

For every year since Bilbo had arrived, Professor Galadriel had taken care of the festival, and it had been noticeable. Silver drapes had fallen along the windows, glittering soothingly towards the dumbstruck fairies that aimlessly flew by. All had been a flutter of blue-gray and tamed greens, wine, and dim torches that allowed the stars illuminate the halls. 

But now, now it was definitely distinct. What was once gray was now of ginger ornaments, spiraling, gleeful candles lower than usual to bring out more light. The ghosts, before banned in fear they would torment the night, now floated in delight, talking to the band, who was not the usual serenating band of elfs, but a collection of dwarfs, humans, and a hobbit, carrying flutes, drums, pipes, clarinets, trumpets, and a bagpipe. A wave of euphoria was in the air already. 

“Fantastic,” Bilbo said, awed. 

“Are those…honey cakes?” Hamfast said, his mouth watering and eyes popping towards the main dining table. 

“Professor Balin did not mind going out of the box this year, did he,” Paladin said, gazing at the hall. 

As they walked around they waved at familiar faces. Lobelia and Otho were—unsurprisingly—already arguing in front of the punch bowl, blocking the way to some really awkward first years. Gandalf was humming delightedly next to the band, and Legolas, in a fine beige dress robe, was sitting with the Gryffindor Quidditch clique. The hall was gradually filling up. They decided to sit next to Fili, Bofur and Ori, who were in the closest tables to the dance floor. 

“Mind if we sit here?” Bilbo asked politely. 

“If you must,” Bofur sighed, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“Brilliant, save me the seat. I’m going for some honey cakes,” Hamfast said before disappearing. Bilbo could not help to grin when Paladin yelled towards Hamfast, “Get me some!” Ori had not spoken at all, fiddling with his dress robe. 

“Ori, you look like if you are in a dentist’s waiting room,” Bard said, appearing from behind Hamfast’s and Bofur’s shoulders. He was wearing a wine-colored coat and a hilarious, matching hat for the occasion. 

“What’s a dentist?” Ori curiously asked, his anxiety lowering by an octave. 

“Nevermind,” Bard grinned. “Have you seen Professor Oakenshield? I need to discuss with him a schedule for him to borrow the fwooper birds. They are getting quite rowdy already and I’ll have to let them go soon.” 

Everyone on the table immediately glanced at Bilbo, who had suddenly become very interested on his knees. Bofur responded, “He’s not here. He had some urgent matters back on the Blue Mountains. 

Bard’s slightly raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Then I’ll have to wait.” He had begun to retreat, paused, and added warmly, “I did not mean to annoy you chaps on your feast, it’s just since you all spend so much time with Thorin. Specially Bilbo.” 

And there it was. The blow that took Bilbo so off guard that he flinched. He turned around to see Bard’s expression, which was light and amused: Bard had meant no harm. 

“Yeah,” Bilbo replied, trying to keep his voice from quivering as he smiled up at Bard. 

After an awkward silence that felt eternal to all, Hamfast loudly asked, “So Ori, why are you so moody tonight?” 

“Parties are not really my thing,” Ori muttered. 

“Then what is your thing?” Hamfast asked. 

“A good book by the fire,” Ori offered. 

Fili stared at him. “Are you _sure_ you aren’t a Ravenclaw?” 

“Positive,” Ori drawled. It was not the first time he had been asked that. 

The food appeared just in time, much to Hamfast’s pleasure. There were chocolate cakes, Yorkshire puddings, lean meats, onion soups, and bubbly, dulcet drinks of all kinds. It took the need of talk for a while, relieving the table until the tension had eased off and Bofur and Hamfast happily argued the correct attributes to making a nice casserole. 

“Is that _Kili?”_ Ori gasped, motioning all to stare towards the door. Fili choked on his baked potato. 

Kili was wearing a fine, charcoal dress coat, leading a stunning Tauriel, who was in a slim, silver dress, towards a table. He was grinning like an idiot. 

“Look at him,” Fili sighed. “Whipped on less than a day.” 

“Bug off the boy, will you?” Bofur said, thumping him on the back of the head. 

The dinner ended with a swish of Balin’s wand as almost everyone had appeared to finish (except for Paladin, who cried in annoyance when his fourth tart slice disappeared before he could take another bite). 

The lights dimmed, the band walked onstage, and the dancing began. 

In previous years, the feast had begun with a serene, lulling song where many elfs swiftly joined and the rest would at first stay behind before tentatively joining in. But now, the gleeful flute player looked mischievously cheerful, and began with an energetic jig. Many, particularly dwarfs, stood up enthusiastically and grabbed their partners to dance, and those who were alone did not hesitate to twirl around the dance floor nonsensically as well, for the music was entrancing. From across the room Kili took Tauriel’s hand and softly whispered something in her ear, and she grinned widely before the two entwined their hands and swooped over to the dance floor. 

“What,” Bofur said suspiciously, looking at Ori. “Is that under the table?” 

“Nothing,” Ori replied, not moving his sight from looking down. 

Bofur snapped his hand under the table and Ori squeaked as Bofur took a book that was resting over Ori’s knees. 

“Seriously?” Bofur said. “Ori, if you are not comfortable here you can leave, but this is your first feast! Loosen up, dance a little! Eat some cake!” 

Ori groaned and looked up at the skies. “Fine.” In a minute he had stood up and asked a pretty first year hobbit girl to dance, who blushed and said yes. 

“Well, that was fast,” Bofur said happily, clearly proud of himself. Bilbo rolled his eyes. 

Paladin came back to the table with his arms full of colorful pastries. 

“What?” Paladin said as Bilbo and Hamfast were suppressing their snorts. 

The energetic music slowly became more soothing and elf-like, and with this the second wave of dancers began as many retired in their exhaustion. 

“Bilbo,” a honeyed voice said behind them. Bilbo jumped and looked over his shoulder to see Tauriel and Kili behind them. “Would you mind if I took you for this dance?” 

Bilbo smiled widely and said, “If Kili does not mind.” 

“No, not at all, Mister Boggins,” Kili said importantly, and Tauriel laughed. Bilbo stood up and, despite the obvious height difference, he gallantly took Tauriel’s hand and led her towards the dance floor, smartly moving around the dance floor. Tauriel looked slightly surprised at how natural he was at elven dances, and smiled widely. 

“Hm, I should ask Bilbo to show me how to do that,” Kili said pointedly, looking at the two. 

“Bilbo doesn’t do miracles,” Fili grumbled. 

The song ended abruptly as there was a small dispute between two of the musicians. Before the two could decide with their fists, another took the matter in his hands with the trombone had started another catchy, gleeful jig. There was at first a disaster of spilled notes before the two had been forced to compromise by a wild Otho storming onto the stage, shouting recommendations. When Otho was removed the band began to play first a very well-known hobbit song. Several elfs huffed in annoyance, but as many saw how Bilbo was teaching Tauriel how to hop and rhythmically twirl at the music, everyone slowly followed. Most dwarfs did not seem to mind at the slightest and moved at their own accord. The atmosphere suddenly became playful and loose. 

Ori could be seen now dancing with a gorgeous human girl noticeably taller and years older than him. Bofur gaped at them. “HOW?” Bofur asked Fili through the booming music. 

Fili merely shrugged, smirking. 

Dwarven songs were next and Kili promptly stood up to take Tauriel from Bilbo, whom happily assented. He went ahead to sit next to Paladin and Hamfast, whom had been talking excitedly about Otho’s incident. 

Later on the night, Paladin said to Bilbo before he could stop himself, “This night did not go as I planned.” 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow slowly. “And how did you plan it?” 

“I—er,” Paladin stuttered. “I’d…dance more.” 

“That can be arranged!” Hamfast said quickly, getting a hold of Paladin’s wrist and getting towards the dancing crowding. 

“Be more subtle, will you?” Hamfast hissed. 

“I know, I know,” Paladin said. “Ow!” A careless first year had stepped on his foot as a dwarfish song played. “How do you dance this, anyways? Everyone just seems as if they are barefoot under burning coal.” Kili was dancing nearby with Tauriel, and slapped him in the back of the head when he heard him. 

Three songs later, Paladin and Hamfast sat down again, and Kili and Tauriel joined them. 

Kili elbowed Paladin and jerked his head towards Fili as they approached the table. “Watch this,” Kili muttered. “Hey Fili!” he said, louder. “Tauriel’s a fan of the Long Beards team. Dunno what’s wrong with her.” 

Fili’s face instantly lit up. “Are you?” 

“Well, how could I not be?” Tauriel smiled charmingly. “With Veo on the team, they’ll surely be on the finals by next year.” 

“That’s rubbish!” Kili said. 

Fili decided Tauriel was all not that bad. 

After what felt like an hour of conversing happily on Quidditch teams, Tauriel casually said, ““So Kili tells me you two are royalty!” 

Paladin choked on his eighth pastry and Bilbo’s eyes widened. Kili automatically nudged Tauriel by the shin. Tauriel glared at him. 

“What?” Hamfast said, dumbfounded. 

“You _told_ her?” Fili hissed. 

“Well, I had to! She’s my girlfriend!” Kili snapped. 

“What’s happening?” Tauriel said softly. “Was I not supposed to know?” 

“Royalty?” Paladin echoed. 

The two brothers seemed to first notice the three hobbits. 

“Yeah,” Fili said, slowly, as if testing his words. “Princes.” 

“So this means…” Bilbo’s voice cracked. He cleared his voice and tried again. “So…so th-this means your father was king and your…uncle… _brother_ of a queen?” 

Kili grimaced. 

“No… _Uncle_ is the king.” 

Bilbo let out a breathless, hollow laugh. “King. Thorin. King. I…king.” 

Everyone on the table was staring at Bilbo in concern, who was babbling to himself. 

“You okay, Bilbo?” Tauriel said. 

“Me? Yeah, yes. I’ll go get some punch, shall I?” With a empty gaze he stood up, shuffling away _not_ towards the punch bowl. 

“What’s up with him?” Tauriel said as Bilbo left the table. 

“He’s in love with Thorin,” Kili said conversationally. 

“ _Kili!”_

“What? Girlfriend, remember?” 

“I really think that wasn’t for you to tell though,” Tauriel chuckled. Kili shrugged. 

Fili groaned and pinched his nose. “Great. That’s a way to tell him.” 

“Bilbo just can’t catch a break can he?” Paladin smiled sadly. 

“A break from what?” said a deep voice behind them, making them all jump. 

Behind them, Thorin Oakenshield stood, wearing a splendid dress robe of dark violet and a dwarfish, golden necklace of intricate runes. His hair was braided back and his eyes looked suspiciously at his two nephews. 

“Could you come at a better time?” Hamfast whispered. 

“Uncle!” Fili said, gaping. 

“You could not have chosen a worst time appear,” Kili said grimaced. 

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “What happened?” 

“Er…Bilbo sort of knows you’re king.” 

Thorin’s eyes turned round. “ _What_?” 

“It was Kili,” Fili said quickly. 

“Oh look Bilbo saw you,” Hamfast said, sounding slightly delighted at the chaos. 

“Where are you going,” Kili said in a hushed voice to Thorin, who was walking away. 

“What do you think? I’m going to go fix the mess you two have done,” Thorin snapped. 

“Oh no,” Hamfast shook his head. “He shouldn’t do this.” 

“Why?” Fili asked glancing at his uncle walking towards Bilbo, whose face looked blank from their seat. 

Paladin answered in a rush. “It’s just that Bilbo is not in his right mind right now and he might say—“ 

All fell silent as they could all see Bilbo nodding to Thorin, following him outside the Great Hall. 

All gaped, watching as the two disappeared into some corridor. 

Tauriel broke the silence, clearing her throat. “Well,” she said. “That’s that. We should let the two alone for the night.” 

"We should really give them their space," Hamfast said with a dazed look. 

"Yeah," Fili said. “We’ve done our job. It’s not our business anymore.” 

They all nodded, before Paladin, Hamfast, and Fili stormed off outside the Great Hall. Tauriel sighed. 

“Wanna go _out_ too?” Kili said, wagging his eyebrows. 

Tauriel laughed. “I don’t see why not,” she said, amused. 

*** 

Bilbo truly did not know what to expect anymore. It was as if everything was possible now. Thorin, his precious Thorin, who before was so untouchable as a teacher, turned out to be king. What else? How could he be more out of his league? 

His pulse was not racing anymore; instead, as both entered into a dark, empty classroom, it slowed down. As if unconsciously, with his wand Bilbo brought the torches to flicker into life. 

Breathe. 

Bilbo stood silently as Thorin closed the door. Bilbo looked at the figure before him, wearing such majestic attire. It wall (ironically, Bilbo thought in annoyance) for a king. 

Thorin rummaged in the spot, running his hair with his fingers anxiously. He would not meet Bilbo’s eyes. 

“So,” Bilbo began. 

Thorin began to step towards him, fidgeting slightly. He tried to hide his nervousness with a smirk, unsuccessfully. “So.” 

No one said nothing for an uncomfortably long amount of time. 

“Er…how was your trip to the Blue Mountains?” Bilbo said lamely. 

Thorin’s mouth tugged upwards at Bilbo’s obvious attempt for small talk. “The raids were calmed, but there have been rumors there will be more.” 

“Are you okay?” Bilbo said, his nervousness dropped for concern. 

“I am,” Thorin said. Bilbo scanned him more thoroughly, drinking in the sight of him. He had not seen him in what felt like forever. His hands seemed to have more calluses, his hair had new beads, the sun had given his nose some freckles, and… 

“Your cheek,” Bilbo murmured, frowning as he placed a tentative hand on Thorin’s face, covering a bruise. “What happened?” 

Thorin sighed pleasantly at Bilbo’s touch. “A quarrel with a dwarf. Balin’s brother, to be precise. He thought a blow to the head would bring some sense into me.” 

Bilbo hesitated. “What was the quarrel about, if I may ask?” 

Thorin pondered on whether to tell the truth or not. In the end, he decided to be honest. “You,” he said. “On whether I could pursue you.” 

Bilbo’s cheeks flushed deeply, his blue eyes wide. He looked so lovely. Somehow, they had gotten so close. “Why would you do that?” 

Such an absurd question. The answer was obvious, yet Thorin answered it anyways. “Because I love you, you ridiculous hobbit.” 

Bilbo mind suddenly became fuzzy, losing control of his limbs. His heart was beating noisily under his chest. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bilbo muttered. “Look…Thorin. Fili and Kili told me…you did not want to do this further. And if that is what you want…” Bilbo dropped his hand and moved a step back. “I understand. There is no need for this.” 

Thorin frowned at Bilbo’s sudden change. “You misunderstand. Please. I do not want that anymore.” 

“Is that so? Then why did you say that to your nephews? Why did you not tell me this that night in your classroom? Do you know how much…how much…you let me suffer after the boggart? Do you not know…” Bilbo stopped, hating himself for voicing out that had been eating him, torturing him. 

This was all wrong, Thorin thought to himself. He had to make it better, had to try. 

”I just feared it would be…” Thorin’s voice faded away, struggling to find the will to go on, and Bilbo had to say: 

“Yes?” 

“I feared…it would only be infatuation.” 

To Thorin’s surprise, Bilbo huffed out a laugh, “I feared that too, quite a lot actually. And I must say it was just that for a little while.” 

Bilbo fell silent, and Thorin’s heart, always so meditatively heavy and slow, was racing out of his chest. 

“But then I met you,” Bilbo continued on softly. “And that is where I made my mistake.” 

“Mistake?” Thorin echoed. 

“—Well, I might not know you as much as to say I know you completely, but—“ 

“You know me more than anyone,” Thorin interrupted before he could stop himself. 

Bilbo looked up, shocked. “Oh,” he said, because he did not know what else to say. “Don’t be silly Thorin. There is your family, your kin and friends. I did not even know you were royalty five minutes ago, for the Shire’s sake!” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Thorin said, kneeling so he would be looking up at Bilbo. “My family only knows me so much and my kin know me as a failure of a king—“ 

“Oh Thorin please don’t say that—“ 

“And you are most likely exaggerating my capability of being friendly,” Thorin smirked. 

Bilbo smiled. “Oh I dunno, I say you can be pretty friendly.” 

Thorin laughed. “Say all you want, but do not say you do not know me, or I do not know you,” Thorin said, lifting his hand as if to place it on Bilbo’s face before leaving it in midair and retrieving it. Bilbo caught the gesture and parted his lips as his heart raced. “Because I do, more than I sometimes wish I did. I saw you, heard you, and it killed me that I could not have you.” 

Thorin stopped and licked his lips, his voice in a trance to end what he had started, low and rough as gravel. His voice, so naturally strong and royal, did not fit his words. “I thought at first you did not want me, but you do, and now…I want you to know, even if you deny me, you will always have me. I’ll be here.” 

Bilbo looked down at him, at loss for words at the sight before him, so vulnerable. “Thorin,” was all he could say, clinging on to the word as a drowning man to a lifesaver. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice lowering. “This…this was not a mistake. And if it is, it might be the greatest mistake I will do in my life.” 

“Yes Thorin but…but…oh bugger it!” Bilbo snapped before closing the gap between the two. 

Before his lips he felt Thorin’s frozen ones, unresponding, and Bilbo was about to lean back in horror before Thorin reacted, placing a hand over Bilbo’s scalp. It was sloppy and brief, and one of Thorin’s hands was stuck between them, but it was perfect. It was all they had been waiting for, the impatient desire for the other shown in their eager actions. They were reassured of the fact that they loved each other, that everything else was irrelevant. One would always be there for the other. 

Slowly, carefully, Thorin managed to move one hand to Bilbo’s hip, stand up, and move them near a wall where they could support themselves on without interrupting their kissing. It was intriguing, exciting to find how their mouths fit together. Their heated kisses gradually became languid and sweet. 

“What?” Thorin finally growled, referring to Bilbo smiling during their kisses. 

“Nothing, it’s just...” he led Thorin’s forehead to rest on his, running his hand through Thorin’s hair. “I’m happy.” 

Thorin smiled too, holding him closer, giving him a quick kiss on his nose. He replayed what just had happened in his mind, something warm growing in his chest. “I’m happy too,” he murmured back. 

*** 

“What are they saying now?" 

“Not much, something about being happy.” 

"How about now?" Hamfast hissed, trying to press his ear on the door as well but Fili not letting him, slapping him away. Paladin stood next to them, looking at the sight miserably. 

“We have reached a new low,” Paladin murmured. 

“Shush, no one told you to be here. Fili what are they saying?” 

"Can you shut it for one second? Er, I can't hear anything, just—oh, that was a moan, I'm stopping now..." 

The two stepped away, Fili grinning widely. “Well, that’s that. Might as well give them some space now” 

“About time with those two!” Hamfast announced happily. The three began to walk towards the Great Hall. 

“It’s so fulfilling how we finally did it. We got them together!” Fili said proudly. 

“And exhausting,” Paladin added. 

“That too.” 

“Oi, what was that?” Fili frowned. 

The three had been passing Thorin’s classroom. As they fell quite, inside the room all could hear the distinctive smacking sounds of… 

“Yep, someone’s definitely snogging in there,” Paladin whispered. 

“It must be Kili and Tauriel, who else? You’d think they’d know better than to do it in Thorin’s classroom—“ 

Fili snorted. “Let’s give them a bit of a scare.” 

“What? No, I’m not going to interrupt…whatever’s happening in there.” 

“Don’t be so dim, they’re clearly just snogging. And I’ll just give them a bit of a spook.” 

“Fine, suit yourself, but don’t count on me,” Paladin said. 

Fili huffed in irritation. “Hamfast, mind staying on the lookout?” 

Hamfast shrugged. “Sure.” Paladin glared daggers at him. 

“Calm down Paladin, I’m just going to silently sneak in and fright the living wits out of them. It’ll be fun,” Fili said quietly. Grinning wickedly, he slowly opened the door, and in tiptoes snuck in. 

Paladin and Hamfast waited nervously, and thankfully Fili got out almost immediately. But he did not look triumphant or satisfied. He was as pale as a sheet. 

“What happened? What did you see?” Hamfast asked, eyes widened. 

Fili’s voice was hoarse. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Let’s go to the Great Hall.” 

Paladin and Hamfast frowned, but followed him anyways. 

“That’ll teach him to think things twice,” Paladin could not help to chuckle. 

*** 

“ _Fireworks_!” 

The party ended in the most unusual way, with Gandalf throwing fireworks all around the ball. 

“I didn’t plan this,” Balin had yelled, annoyed, but Gandalf did not seem to listen. 

The fireworks were gorgeous, ranging from simple racketing colors around the ceiling to grand dragons intimidatingly causing havoc before extinguishing. 

The bad news was how some third years messed around with the fireworks and promptly put the place on fire. Even though the fire was quickly taken care of, many students took this as a warning and a cue to go to sleep. 

These students did not include Fili, Bofur, Ori, Paladin, nor Hamfast. 

The five looked at the couples dance contentedly, and murmured about the craziness of the day. When Balin came to ask them what they thought of the party, they said they would certainly always remember this night. 

Kili and Tauriel eventually appeared, disheveled and grinning. “Hey guys!” 

“Had enough time fooling around on Thorin’s classroom?” Paladin said, smirking. “You really did give our idiot of a brother a scare!” 

Fili turned around to look at the couples dancing again and pretended not to hear. 

Kili frowned. “We were not at Thorin’s classroom.” 

Hamfast froze. “Wait,” he turned to see Fili, who would not meet anyone’s eyes. “If you did not see Kili and Tauriel, then who…?” 

“Fili,” Bard popped in behind them, accompanied by Professor Thranduil. Both were looking anxiously at Fili, who turned green. “Could we talk about what you saw…earlier?” 

“OH MY GOODNESS,” Hamfast choked. _“_ Bard? _You and_ —?“ 

“Hamfast,” Bilbo’s voice hissed behind them. “Paladin. I need your help!” 

“Not now, Bilbo!” nearly all the table hissed. Bilbo nevertheless took Paladin’s and Hamfast’s hand and pulled them towards a more private spot, between the back of the band and the wall. 

“What do you want?” Hamfast said. 

“I need you two dance with a teacher.” 

“ _What?”_

“Just so it won’t look suspicious when Thorin and I are dancing as well!” 

Both hobbits looked at Bilbo as if he was crazy. “Bilbo, the party is about to end and half the teachers are already leaving. _How—?”_ Hamfast stopped, glancing over at their table, where a nervous Bard and Thranduil could still be seen speaking to a Fili, who looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“Fine,” Hamfast said. “But you owe me one!” 

Bilbo grinned at them brightly and gave them a great hug before disappearing. Hamfast huffed, and muttered towards Paladin, “Follow my lead.” 

“All right Bard and Professor Thranduil, we will not speak of what Fili witnessed,” Hamfast loudly said as he sat down. “But you two have to something for us.” 

Bard’s eyes widened and Thranduil rose an eyebrow. “And what is this you want?” Thranduil said. 

Hamfast grinned. “Dance with us.” Paladin nodded. 

Bard and Thranduil looked more alarmed than before. 

*** 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, _The_ _Feast_ _of_ _Starlight_.” 

The last song of the night began, a soothing tune that was sweet yet silvery, the sound of nostalgia. 

When Paladin and Hamfast began waltzing with Bard and Thranduil, the other students began to get the idea and in no time at all, most of the teachers were being lead to the dance floor. Galadriel danced with Legolas, Gandalf with Ori. Even a brave first year girl went ahead to ask Professor Thranduil to dance, who was flattered by the invitation. Kili gave Professor Galadriel to an eager fourth year and tapped Bard’s shoulder. 

It was all so perfect. 

At the last verse of the song, somehow Tauriel ended with Kili, Bard with Thranduil—and Bilbo with Thorin. The two lovers were lost in the crowd, invisible to everyone, just like everyone was invisible to them. It was only the two of them, Bilbo’s head resting on Thorin’s chest, slowly swaying in circles. Bilbo noticed nothing, not even the sight of Professor Thranduil and Bard talking together nearby, except Thorin. He beamed, still not believing his luck. 

“No, definitely not an infatuation,” Bilbo murmured into Thorin’s chest without thinking Thorin would hear. Thorin smiled the warmest smile, and held him closer. 

Both wished that the song would last forever with them under the stars 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone guess the meaning of the title now?
> 
> Sorry it took me so long to post this one. Thank you for sticking with me, my lovelies. Hope it was worth it.


End file.
